UC-NRLF 


B  3  331  am 


ill. 
11 


nil! 


HI!  ! 


NO  QUARTER! 


CAPTAIN    MAYNE    REID, 

Author  of  **  The  Scalp  Hunters;'  "  The  Death  Shot,"  '*  The  Htadhn 
Honeman,"  eU,^  eU» 


NEW  YORK : 

HTJEST  AND  COMPANY, 

PUBLISHERS. 


CONTENTS. 


— ♦ 

VAGI 

PROLOGUB  •««••••••! 

CHAPTER   I. 
A  Sword  Duel  in  the  Saddle  •       •       •       •       •     X4 

CHAPTER  II. 
Foes  become  Friends    .••••••     20 

CHAPTER   III. 
Beautiful  Forest  Birds      ...•••     26 

CHAPTER   IV. 
Out  for  a  Walk    •.«.••••     32 

CHAPTER  V. 
Waiting  and  Watching       ••••••     39 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  Cavalier  in  Love 45 

CHAPTER  VII. 
A  Young  Lady  not  in  Love        .       •       •       •       •      50 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
A  House  in  Tudor  Style    .••••#     57 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A  Right  Royal  Epistle       .       .       ,      •      •      •     64 

Mi3554 


iv  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  X. 

WAom 

The  Cousins    • 7^ 

CHAPTER  XL 
Three  Curious  Characters       •       •       •       •       #     79 

CHAPTER  XII. 
A  Combat  in  a  Quarry        .•••••     84 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Looking  Forward  to  a  Fight    .       •       •       •       •     92 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  Hawking  Party •       •       •     9S 

CHAPTER  XV. 
**Dear  Little  Mer" .104 

CHAPTER  XVL 
Trouble  Anticipated 109 

CHAPTER  XVIL 
New  Faces  and  Old  Foes •    114 

CHAPTER  XVIIL 
**  Resist!*        • •       •    120 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
In  the  Midst  ov  a  Mob       .•••••    126 

CHAPTER  XX. 
"  No  Quarter  !  '     .       .       .       .       ,       ,       ,       •    131 

CHAPTER  XXL 
War  in  Full  Fury ^    ,      •137 


CONTiENtS. 

CHAPTER  XXI  I. 
The  Cadgers  on  Dangerous  Ground 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  Grand  Sergeant  of  Guard    .       • 


CHAPTER  XXIV, 


On  the  Bridge 


CHAPTER  XXV. 
In  Council  of  War      .... 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
A  Despatch  Cunningly  Conveyed     . 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 


A  City  of  Refuge 


CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
A  Home  Gayer  than  Congenial 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 


The  Night  Owl 


CHAPTER  XXX. 
A  Mixed  Assembly        .       .       .       . 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
A  Labyrinth  of  Jealousies  . 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 

A  CONTRADANZA 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


A  Pas-seul 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 


Guardian  Angels 


VI  CONtENtS. 

CHAPTER  XXXV. 

tKGt 

A  Complete  Eclaircissement     .       •      •       •      .    229 

CHAPTER  XXXVI. 
After  Roundway  Down       •       *       •       •       •       .234 

CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

FlENNES  SHOWS  THE  WHITE  FEATHER  •  •  •     243 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 
Insulting  a  Fallen  Foe      •       .       •       •       9      •    249 

CHAPTER  XXXIX. 
A  Princely  Admirer     ••*••••    256 

CHAPTER  XL. 
The  Cadgers  on  the  Kymin      .,       ...    262 

CHAPTER  XLI. 
By  the  "Buckstone'' ■       ,   267 

CHAPTER  XLII. 
A  Reconnaissance  ....••••    273 

CHAPTER  XLIIL 
High  Meadow  House 283 

CHAPTER  XLIV. 
Out  in  the  Storm •      •       •    J290 

CHAPTER  XLV. 
A  Town  Cleverly  Taken     ..••••    296 

CHAPTER  XLVI. 
Awaiting  War  News     .       .       .      •       .       •       .    301 

CHAPTER  XLVII. 
Old  Comrades       .••••••      •    310 


CONTENTS.  Vil 

CHAPTER  XLVIII 

PAGS 

Between  Two  Prisons 317 

CHAPTER  XLIX, 
An  Uphill  Chase •       •       •    327 

CHAPTER  L. 
An  Ambuscade •       •    334 

CHAPTER  LI. 
In  Carousal •       •    ^42 

CHAPTER  LII. 
At  Home  Again •       •       •    351 

CHAPTER  LIII. 
Again  Presentiments    .       .       .       •       •       •       .358 

CHAPTER   LIV. 
A  Glittering  Cohort  ...••••    365 

CHAPTER   LV. 
Hawking  at  Home.       .       .       .       •       •       •       •    370 

CHAPTER   LVI. 
An  Introduction  in  the  Saddle      •       •       •       .    375 

CHAPTER   LVII. 
A  Crime  in  Contemplation.       •       •       •       •       •    383 

CHAPTER  LVI II. 
A  Messenger  Despatched  ..••••    387 

CHAPTER   LIX. 
Brought  Home  a  Prisoner.       •       •       •      •       •    393 

CHAPTER   LX 
Quartered  upon  the  Enemy      ,       ,      •      «       t   40Q 


vih  CONTENTS, 

CHAPTER   LXI. 

FAGI 

A  Courageous  Wader »       •    405 

CHAPTER    LXII. 
Their  Dear  Ones  in  Danger     •       •       •       •       •    410 

CHAPTER   LXIII. 
An  Exciting  Epistle    .       •       .       •       •       •       •415 

CHAPTER    LXIV. 
A  House  on  Fire   ...•••••    420 

CHAPTER   LXV. 
Very  near  an  Encounter  ..♦»,.    427 

CHAPTER   LXVI. 
On  the  Trail •       •      •    436 

CHAPTER  LXVII. 
A  Guard  Carelessly  Kept  ..♦.,,    443 

CHAPTER   LXVIII. 
A  Fight  in  a  Flood     •••♦••*    449 


u 


NO    QUARTER! 


PROLOGUE. 


There  is  no  page  in  England's  history  so  bright, 
nor  of  which  Englishmen  have  such  reason  to 
be  proud,  as  that  covering  the  period  between 
1 640  and  1650.  This  glorious  decade  was  ushered 
in  by  the  election  of  the  "Long  Parliament,"  and 
I  challenge  the  annals  of  all  nations,  ancient  or 
modern,  to  show  an  assembly  in  which  sat  a 
greater  number  of  statesmen  and  patriots.  Brave 
as  pure,  fearless  in  the  discharge  of  their  difficult 
and  dangerous  duties,  they  faltered  not  in  the 
performance  of  them — shrank  not  from  impeach- 
ing a  traitor  to  his  country,  and  bringing  his 
head  to  the  block,  even  when  it  carried  a  crown 
True  to  their  consciences,  as  to  their  constituen- 
cies, they  left  England  a  heritage  of  honour  that 
for  long  haloed  her  escutcheon,  and  even  to  this 
hour  throws  its  covering  screen  over  many  a 
deed   of  shame. 

*'Be   a   King!" 
•*Am    I   not   one?" 

"In  name — nothing  mora     Ah!   were   I   a  man 
md    in   your   place  1  '* 
"  What   would   you   do  ?  " 

**  Give  your    island    churls   a  taste  of   kingship, 
■  B 


i  NO  QUARTER  I 

as  'w^^ /know,  it   iri    France.     My    brother   wouldn't 
let    his  ^.ubjects   so  -  beard   him.     Oh,   it's   abomin- 

"Ah,  chere ;  for  subjects  your  brother  has  a 
very  different  sort  of  people  to  deal  with.  In 
France  they're  not  yet  come  to  clamouring  for 
what  they  call  their  rights  and  liberties.  Plere 
in  England  they've  got  Magna  Charta  into  their 
heads — to   a   craze." 

"  rd  have  it  out  of  their  heads,  or  have  their  heads 
off.  Ciell  rd  reign  King  as  King  should,  or  resign. 
No !  not  resign.  Sooner  than  that  Fd  waste  the 
country  with  fire  and  sword — make  it  a  wilderness." 

It  was  Henrietta,  wife  of  Charles  I.,  who  thus 
expressed  herself  to  her  husband.  They  were 
alone  in  the  gardens  of  Whitehall  Palace,  saun- 
tering side  by  side  on  a  terrace  overlooking  the 
Thames,  the  afternoon  being  an  unusually  fine  one. 
As  they  made  a  turn  which  brought  Westminster 
Hall  before  their  eyes,  the  angry  fire  in  those  of 
the  Queen  flashed  up  again,  and  she  added — 

"Anything  but  be  dictated  to  by  that  cmiaille 
of  a  Parliament !  Anything  but  let  them  go  on 
as   now  1 " 

"  How  am  I  to  hinder  it,  Henriette } "  the  King 
timidly   interrogated. 

"  Dismiss — send  them  packing  back  to  their 
constituencies,  and  let  them  prate  away  there  as 
much  as  they  please.  Dissolve  and  do  without 
them,   as   youVe   done   before." 

"  That  would  be  to  do  without  the  money  we 
so  much  need.  My  subjects  are  determined  to 
resist  every  tax  levied  under  Privy  Seal  or  other- 
wise. I  can  no  longer  raise  loan  or  sell 
monopoly.  Your  own  secretary,  Sir  John  Win- 
toun,  has  just  been  telling  me  how  the  people 
of  Dean    Forest   have    been   harassing    him    about 


PROLOGUE.  3 

the  grant  we  gave  him  of  its  timber  and  mines. 
Impossible  now  to  obtain  the  most  insignificant 
supplies  without  their  being  sanctioned  by  this 
cabal  called    Parliament." 

"  Then  make  the  cabal  sanction  them/* 

"But  how,  cheref' 

"  Have  a  score  or  two  of  them  arrested — lodged 
in  the  Tower ;  and  let  Monsieur  Tom  Lunsford 
take  care  of  them.  He'll  soon  cure  them  of  their 
seditious  inclinings." 

"  To  do  that  were  as  much  as  my  crown's  worth." 

"If  't  be  worth  no  more,  you  may  as  well  cease 
wearing  it.  Fling  it  into  the  Thames,  or  melt  it 
down  and  sell  it  to  the  Ludgate  Street  goldsmiths 
for  old  metal.  Shame  of  you,  Charles  1  You  talk 
of  kingly  rights,  yet  fail  to  exercise  them — fear 
it ! " 

"  My  subjects  talk  of  rights,  too/* 

"Yes,  and  you  encourage  them — by  your  timidity. 
Ever  on  your  knees  begging  this  and  begging  that, 
when  a  true  king  would  command.  Subjects,  in- 
deed 1  more  like  our  masters.  But  I'd  teach  them 
obedience.  What  would  they  be  without  a  king  ? 
What  were  they  born  for  but. to  administer  to  our 
wants  and  our  pleasures  ?  " 

Words  worthy  of  a  Medici ;  the  sentiments  of  a 
queen  two  centuries  and  a  half  ago.  Yet  not  .so 
very  different  from  those  entertained  by  most 
Royal  personages  at  the  present  day  and  hour. 
But  few  of  them  who  would  not  sit  placidly  upon 
their  thrones,  see  subjects  slain,  and  realms  re- 
duced to  desolation,  rather  than  resign  crown  or 
yield  up  one  iota  of  what  they  are  pleased  to  call 
their  prerogative.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  t 
Environed  by  sycophantic  flatterers,  heads  bowing, 
knees  bending,  tongues  eternally  bepraising ;  things 
in  human  shape  giving  them  adoration  as  to  God 


4  NO  QUARTER  1 

Himself — aye,  greater  than  to  God— how  could  it 
be  otherwise?  Not  so  strange  that  this  proud, 
pampered  woman,  from  her  cradle  accustomed  to 
such  slavish  obedience,  should  verily  believe  it  but 
her  due. 

"  Their  rights ! "  she  continued,  with  a  satirical 
laugh.  *'  An  absurd  notion  they've  got  into  their 
Saxon  skulls.  Ah !  mon  mari,  were  I  you  for  a 
month — for  a  week — rd  have  it  out — stamp  it  out 
—I  would." 

And  to  give  emphasis  to  her  speech,  she 
stamped  her  foot  upon  the  ground. 

A  pretty  foot  it  was,  and  still  a  handsome 
woman  she,  this  daughter  of  the  Medicis,  notwith- 
standing her  being  now  somewhat  passS,  Am- 
bitious as  Catherine  herself — **  that  mother  of  a 
race  of  kings" — intriguing,  notoriously  dissolute, 
not  the  less  did  Charles  love  her.  Perhaps  the 
more,  for  the  cuckooes  cry  is  a  wonderful  incentive 
to  passion,  as  to  jealousy.  He  doted  upon  her 
with  foolish  fondness — would  have  done  anything 
she  commanded,  even  murder.  And  to  more  than 
this  was  she  now  instigating  him  ;  for  it  was  to 
stifle,  trample  out  the  liberties  of  a  nation,  no 
matter  at  what  cost  in  life  or  blood. 

Wicked  as  were  her  counsels,  he  would  have 
followed  them  and  willingly,  could  he  have  seen 
his  way  clear  to  success.  Men  still  talk  of  his 
kindly  nature — in  face  of  the  fact,  proved  by 
irresistible  evidence,  that  he  rejoiced  at  the 
massacre  of  the  Protestants  in  Ireland,  to  say 
naught  of  many  other  instances  of  inhumanity 
brought  home  to  this  so-called  "  Martyr  King." 
He  may  not  have  been — was  not— either  a  Nero 
or  a  Theebaw  ;  and  with  his  favourites  and  familiars 
no  doubt  behaved  amicably  enough  ;  at  the  same 
time  readily  sacrificing  them  when  danger  threatened 


PROLOGUE.  S 

himself.  To  his  wife  his  fidelity  and  devotion  were 
such  as  to  have  earned  for  him  the  epithet 
"uxorious,"  a  title  which  can  be  more  readily 
conceded.  But  in  his  affection  for  her — whether 
upheld  by  respect  or  not — there  was  a  spice  of 
fear.  He  knew  all  about  the  scandals  relating  to 
her  mother,  Marie  of  France,  with  Richelieu,  and 
his  own  and  father's  favourite,  the  assassinated 
Buckingham,  now  sleeping  in  his  grave.  Charles 
more  than  suspected,  as  did  all  the  world  besides, 
that  this  same  Queen-mother  had  sent  her  husband 
— king  as  himself — to  an  untimely  tomb  by  a  "cup 
of  cold  poison."  And  oft  as  the  dark  Italian  eyes 
of  her  daughter  flashed  upon  him  in  anger,  he  felt 
secret  fear  she  might  some  day  serve  him  as  had 
her  mother  the  ill-fated  monarch  of  France.  She 
was  of  a  race  and  a  land  whence  such  danger 
might  be  reasonably  expected  and  dreaded. 
Lucr/^zia  Borgia  and  Tophana  were  not  the  only 
great  female  poisoners  Italy  has  produced. 

"  If  youVe  no  care  for  yourself,  then,"  she  went 
on  with  untiring  persistence,  ^*  think  of  our  children. 
Think  of  him,"  and  she  nodded  towards  a  gaudily- 
dressed  stripling  of  some  ten  or  twelve,  seen  com- 
ing towards  them.  It  was  he  who,  twenty  years 
after,  under  the  seemingly  innocent  soubriquet  of 
"Merry  Monarch,"  made  sadness  in  many  a  family 
circle,  smouching  England's  escutcheon  all  over 
with  shame,  scarce  equalled  in  the  annals  of  France. 

'^ Pauvre  enfant!''  she  exclaimed,  as  he  came  up, 
passing  her  jewelled  fingers  through  the  curls  of 
his  hair  ;  "  your  father  would  leave  you  bereft  of 
your  birthright ;  some  day  to  be  a  king  with  a 
worthless  crown." 

The  "  pauvre  enfant,"  a  sly  young  wretch,  smiled 
in  return  for  her  caresses,  looking  dark  at  his 
father.      Young    as    he    was,   he    knew    what    wa^ 


6  No  quarter! 

meant,  and  took  sides  with  his  mother.  She  had 
already  well  indoctrinated  him  with  the  ideas  of 
Divine  Right,  as  understood  by  a  Medici. 

'^  Peste !''  exclaimed  the  King,  looking  vexed, 
possibly  at  the  allusion  to  a  successor ;  "  were  I 
to  follow  your  counsels.  Madam,  it  might  result  in 
my  leaving  him  no  crown  at  all." 

"  Then  leave  him  none  ! "  she  said  in  quick  re- 
turn, and  with  an  air  of  jaunty  indifference. 
"  Perhaps  better  so.  I,  his  mother,  would  rather  see 
him  a  peasant  than  prince,  with  such  a  future  as 
you  are  laying  out  for  him." 

"  Sire,  the  Earl  of  Strafford  craves  audience  of 
your  Majesty." 

This  was  said  by  a  youth  in  the  official  costume 
of  the  Court,  who  had  approached  from  the 
Palace,  and  stood  with  head  bent  before  the 
King. 

A  remarkably  handsome  young  fellow  he  was, 
and  the  Queen,  as  she  turned  her  eyes  on  him, 
seemed  to  recover  sweetness  of  temper. 

"  I  suppose  my  company  will  be  de  trop  now," 
she  said.  Then  facing  towards  the  youth,  and 
bestowing  upon  him  one  of  her  syren  smiles — slyly 
though — she  added,  "  Here,  Eustace  ;  bring  this  to 
my  boudoir,"  and  she  handed  him  a  large  book,  a 
portfeuille  of  pictures,  she  had  been  all  the  while 
carrying. 

Whether  the  King  caught  sight  of  that  smile, 
and  read  something  wrong  in  it,  or  not,  he 
certainly  seemed  irritated,  hastily  interposing — 

**No,  Henriette,  Pd  rather  have  you  stay." 

"  Con  tout  plaisir'^  A  slight  cloud  upon  her 
brow  told  the  contrary.     "  Charles,  too  ?  " 

"  No ;  he  can  go.  Yes,  Trevor.  Conduct  the 
Lord  Strafford  hither." 

Eustace    Trevor,    as    the    handsome    youth    was 


PROLOGUE.  7 

called,  bowing,  turned  and  went  off,  the  Prince 
with  him.     Then  said  the  King — 

"I  wish  you  to  hear  what  Strafford  has  to  say 
on  the  subject  weVe  been  talking  of." 

"Just  what  I  wish  myself,"  she  rejoined,  resum- 
ing her  air  of  braverie,  "  If  you  won't  listen  to 
me,  a  weak  woman,  perhaps  you  will  to  him,  a 
vci^xi—one  of  courage!' 

Charles  writhed  under  her  speech,  the  last  words 
of  it  Even  without  the  emphasis  on  them,  they 
were  more  than  an  insinuation  that  he  himself 
lacked  that  quality  men  are  so  proud  of,  and 
women  so  much  admire.  Almost  a  direct  impu- 
tation, as  if  she  had  called  him  "coward!"  But 
there  was  no  time  for  him  to  make  retort,  angry 
or  otherwise,  even  had  he  dared.  The  man  seek- 
ing audience  was  already  in  the  garden,  and  with- 
in earshot.  So,  swallowing  his  chagrin  as  he  best 
could,  and  putting  on  the  semblance  of  placidity, 
the  King  in  silence  awaited  his  coming  up. 

With  an  air  ^of  confident  familiarity,  and  as 
much  nonchalance  as  though  they  had  been  but 
ordinary  people,  Strafford  approached  the  royal 
pair.  The  Queen  had  bestowed  smiles  on  him 
too  ;  he  knew  he  ^had  her  friendship — -moreover 
that  she  was  the  King's  master.  He  had  pourea 
flattery  into  her  ears,  as  another  Minister  courtier 
of  later  time  into  those  of  another  queen — perhaps 
the  only  point  of  resemblance  between  the  two 
men,  otherwise  unlike  as  Hyperion  to  the  Satyr. 
With  all  his  sins,  Wentworth  had  redeeming 
qualities  ;  he  was  at  least  a  brave  man  and  some- 
what of  a  gentleman. 

**  What  do  you  say  to  this,  my  lord  ? "  asked 
the  Queen,  as  he  came  up.  "  Fve  been  giving  the 
King  some  counsel ;  advising  him  to  dissolve  the 
Parliament,  or  at  least   do  something  to  stop  thena 


8  NO  QUARTER  I 

In    their    wicked    courses.      Favour    us  with    your 

opinion,  my  lord." 

*'  My  opinion,"  answered  the  Minister,  nnaking 
his  bow,  "  corresponds  with  that  of  your  Majesty. 
Cer/eSy  half-hand  measures  will  no  longer  avail  in 
dealing  with  these  seditious  gabblers.  There's  a 
dozen  of  them  deserve  having  their  heads  chopped 
off." 

"Just  what  Tve  been  saying!"  triumphantly  ex- 
claimed  the  Queen.     "  You  hear  that,  man  mart  ?  ** 

Charles  but  nodded  assent,  waiting  for  his 
Minister  to  speak  further. 

"At  the  pace  they're  going  now,  Sire,"  the 
latter  continued,  "  they'll  soon  strip  you  of  all  pre- 
rogative— leave  you  of  Royalty  but  the  rags." 

*' Cze/y  yes!"  interposed  the  Queen.  "And  our 
poor  children  I     What's  to  become  of  them  ?  " 

"I've  just  been  over  to  the  House,"  proceeded 
Strafford;  "and  to  hear  them  is  enough  to  make 
one  tear  his  hair.  There's  that  Hampden,  with 
Heselrig,  Vane,  and  Harry  Martin — Sir  Robert 
Harley  too — talking  as  if  England  had  no  longer 
a  king,  and  they  themselves  were  its  rulers." 

"  Do  you  tell  me  that,  Strafford  ? " 

It  was  Charles  himself  who  interrogated,  now 
showing  great  excitement,  which  the  Queen's  "I 
told  you  so"  strengthened,  as  she  intended  it. 

"VVith  your  Majesty's  permission,  I  do,"  re- 
sponded the  Minister. 

"  By  God's  splendour ! "  exclaimed  the  indignant 
monarch,  "  I'll  read  them  a  different  lesson — show 
them  that  England  kas  a  king — one  who  will  here- 
after reign  as  king  should — absolute — absolute !  " 

"Thank  you,  mon  ainiy'  said  the  Queen,  in  a 
side  whisper  to  Strafford,  as  she  favoured  him 
with  one  of  her  most  witching  smiles,  "  He'll 
gurely  do  something  now." 


PROLOGUE,  9 

The  little  bit  of  by- play  was  unobserved  by 
Charles,  the  gentleman-usher  having  again  come 
up  to  announce  another  applicant  for  admission  to 
the  presence :  an  historical  character,  too — historically 
infamous — for  it  was  Archbishop  Laud. 

Soon  after  the  oily  ecclesiastic  was  seen  coming 
along  in  a  gliding,  stealthy  gait,  as  though  he 
feared  giving  offence  by  approaching  royalty  too 
brusquely.  His  air  of  servile  obsequiousness  was 
in  striking  contrast  with  the  bold  bearing  of  the 
visitor  who  had  preceded  him.  As  he  drew  near, 
his  features,  that  bore  the  stamp  of  his  low  birth 
and  base  nature,  were  relaxed  to  their  meekest 
and  mildest ;  a  placid  smile  playing  on  his  lips, 
as  though  they  had  never  told  a  lie,  or  himself 
done  murder! 

Au  fait  to  all  that  concerned  the  other  three— ^ 
every  secret  of  Court  and  Crown — for  he  was  as 
much  the  King's  Minister  as  Strafford,  he  was  at 
once  admitted  to  their  council,  and  invited  to  take 
part  in  their  conspirings.  Appealed  to,  as  the 
other  had  been,  he  gave  a  similar  response. 
Strong  measures  should  be  taken.  He  knew  the 
Queen  wished  it  so,  for  it  was  not  his  first  con- 
ference with  her  on  that  same  subject. 

Strafford  was  not  permitted  time  to  impart  to 
his  trio  of  listeners  the  full  particulars  of  the  cruel 
scheme,  which  some  say,  and  with  much  prob- 
ability, had  its  origin  in  Rome.  For  the  guests 
of  the  gay  Queen,  expected  every  afternoon  at 
Whitehall,  began  to  arrive,  interrupting  the  con- 
ference. 

Soon  the  palace  garden  became  lustrous  with 
people  in  splendid  apparel,  the  elite  of  the  land  still 
adhering  to  the  King's  cause — plumed  cavaliers, 
with  dames  old  and  young,  though  youth  pre- 
dominatedj   but  not   all   of    high   degree,   either  in 


10  NO  quarter! 

the  male  or  female  element.  As  in  modern  garden 
parties  given  by  royalty,  there  was  a  mixture,  both 
socially  and  morally,  strange  even  to  grotesqueness. 
The  Franco-Italian  Queen,  with  all  her  grand  ideas 
of  Divine  Right  and  high  Prerogative,  was  not  loth 
to  lay  them  down  and  aside  when'  they  stood  in 
the  way  of  her  pleasures.  She  could  be  a  very 
leveller  where  self-interest  required  it ;  and  this 
called  for  it  now.  The  King's  failing  popularity 
needed  support  from  all  sides,  classes,  and  parties, 
bad  or  good,  humble  or  gentle  ;  and  in  the  assem- 
blage she  saw  around  her — there  by  her  own 
invitation — such  high  bloods  as  Harry  Jermyn, 
Hertford,  Digby,  Coningsby,  Scudamore,  and  the 
like,  touched  sleeves  with  men  of  low  birth  and 
lower  character — very  reprobates,  as  Lunsford, 
afterwards  designated  "  the  bloody,"  and  the  no- 
torious desperado,  David  Hide !  The  feminine 
element  was  equally  paralleled  by  what  may  be 
seen  in  many  *'  society  "  gatherings  of  the  present 
day — virtuous  ladies  brushing  skirts  with  stage 
courtezans,  and  others  who  figure  under  the  name 
of  "professional  beauties,"  many  of  them  bearing 
high  titles  of  nobility,  but  now  debasing  them. 

Henrietta,  in  her  usual  way,  had  a  pleasant  word 
and  smile  for  all ;  more  for  the  men  than  the 
women,  and  sweeter  for  the  younger  ones  than  the 
old  ones.  But  even  to  the  gilded  youth  they  were 
not  distributed  impartially.  Handsome  Harry 
Jermyn,  hitherto  reigning  favourite,  and  having  the 
larger  share  of  them,  had  reason  to  suspect  that 
his  star  was  upon  the  wane,  when  he  saw  the 
Queen's  eyes  ever  and  anon  turned  towards  another 
courtier  handsome  as  himself,  with  more  of  youth 
on  his  side — Eustace  Trevor.  The  latter,  relieved 
from  his  duty  as  gentleman-usher,  had  joined  the 
party  in  the  garden.     Socially,  he  had  all  right  to 


tkOLOGUE.  i\ 

be  there.  Son  of  a  Welsh  knight,  he  could  boast 
of  ancestry  old  as  Caractacus,  some  of  his  forbears 
having  served  under  Harry  of  Monmouth,  and 
borne  victorious  banners  at  Agincourt.  But  boast- 
ing was  not  in  Eustace  Trevor's  line,  nor  conceit 
of  any  sort — least  of  all  vanity  about  his  personal 
appearance.  However  handsome  others  thought 
him,  he  himself  was  quite  unconscious  of  it. 
Equally  so  of  the  Queen's  admiration  ;  callous  to 
the  approaches  she  had  commenced  making,  to 
the  chagrin  of  older  favourites.  Not  that  he  was 
of  a  cold  or  passionless  nature ;  simply  because 
Henriette  de  Medici,  though  a  Queen,  a  beautiful 
woman  as  well,  was  not  the  one  destined  to  inspire 
his  first  passion.  For  as  yet  he  knew  not  love. 
But  recently  having  become  attached  to  the  Court 
in  an  official  capacity,  he  thought  only  of  how  he 
might  best  perform  the  duties  that  had  been 
assigned  him. 

Though  there  might  be  many  envies,  jealousies, 
even  bitter  heartburnings  among  the  people  who 
composed  that  glittering  throng,  they  were  on  the 
whole  joyous  and  jubilant.  A  whisper  had  gone 
round  of  the  King's  determination  to  return  to  his 
old  ways,  and  once  more  boldly  confront  what 
they  called  the  aggressions  of  the  Parliament. 
These-  concerned  them  all,  for  they  were  all  of  the 
class  and  kind  who  preyed  upon  the  people. 
Groups  gathered  here  and  there  were  merry  in 
mutual  congratulations  on  their  fine  prospects  for 
the  future ;  hoping  that,  like  the  past,  it  would 
afford  them  free  plunder  of  the  nation's  purse  and 
resources — ship  tax,  coal  and  conduit  money 
once  more,  loans  by  Privy  Seal,  and  sale  of  mono- 
polies— all  jobberies  and  robberies  restored ! 

But  just  at  that  moment  of  general  rejoicing,- 
as  a  bombshell  bursting  in  the  midst  of  a  military 


12  NO  QUARtERl 

camp  or  regiment  of  soldiers  in  close  column, 
came  a  thing  that,  first  setting  them  in  a  flutter, 
soon  seriously  alarmed  them.  A  thing  of  human 
shape  withal  ;  a  man  in  official  robes,  the  uniform 
of  a  Parliamentary  usher  from  the  Lords.  He  was 
announced  as  waiting  outside,  rather  claiming  than 
craving  an  interview,  which  the  King  dared  not 
deny  him. 

Summoned  into  the  Audience  Chamber,  where 
Charles  had  gone  to  receive  him,  he  presented  the 
latter  with  a  document,  the  reading  of  which  caused 
him  to  tremble  and  turn  pale.  For  it  was  a  Bill 
of  Attainder  that  had  been  agreed  to  by  both 
Houses  against  Thomas  Wentvvorth,  Earl  of  Straf- 
ford. The  fluttering  among  the  courtiers  became 
fright,  when  the  King,  returning  to  the  garden, 
made  knov/n  the  usher's  errand.  To  his  familiars 
at  first,  but  it  soon  passed  from  lip  to  lip  and  ear 
to  ear.  None  seemed  so  little  affected  as  Strafford 
himself.  Sin-hardened,  he  was  also  endowed  with 
indomitable  courage,  and  maintained  a  bold,  high 
bearing  to  the  last  of  his  life,  even  to  the  laying 
his  head  upon  the  block — an  episode  v/hich  soon 
after  succeeded, — the  craven  monarch  signing  his 
death  warrant  as  if  it  had  been  a  receipt  for  one 
of  his  loans  by  Privy  Seal. 

Far  more  frightened  by  the  Parliamentary  mes- 
sage was  Archbishop  Laud.  For  him  no  more 
pleasure  that  day  in  the  gardens  of  Whitehall. 
His  smiles  and  simpering  all  gone,  with  pallid 
cheek  and  clouded  brow,  the  wretched  ecclesiastic 
wandered  around  among  the  courtiers,  seeming 
distraught.  And  so  was  he.  For  in  that  Bill  of 
Attainder  he  read  his  own  doom — read  it  aright. 

Grand,  glorious  Parliament,  that  knew  not  only 
how  to  impeach,  but  punish  the  betrayers  of  the 
people!      Knew    also    how    to    maintain    its    own 


PROLOGUE.  13 

dignity  and  honour  ;  as  on  a  later  occasion,  when 
the  King,  once  more  maddened  by  the  stinging 
taunts  of  his  wicked  wife,  entered  the  august  as- 
sembly with  an  escort  of  bullies  and  bravoes — 
Lunsford  and  Hide  among  them — to  arrest  six  of 
England's  most  illustrious  patriots  :  an  attempt 
eminently  unsuccessful^ — an  intrusion  handsomely 
resented.  As  the  disappointed  monarch  and  his 
disreputable  following  turned  to  go  out  again,  it 
was  with  a  wonderful  come-down  in  their  swagger. 
For  along  the  line  of  seats,  on  both  sides  of 
the  House,  they  saw  men  with  scowling  faces  and 
hats  on  their  heads ;  heard,  too,  in  chorus  clearly, 
loudly  repeated,  the  significant  cry — "Privilege!" 


GHAPTER  I. 

A  SWORD   DUEL  IN   THE  SADDLE. 

•*He  who  "is  not  a  Republican  must  either  have  a 
bad  head  or  a  bad  heart." 

The  speaker  was  a  man  of  military  mien,  cavalry 
arm,  as  could  be  told  by  his  seat  in  the  saddle — 
for  he  was  on  horseback.  Not  in  military  uniform, 
however,  but  dressed  in  a  plain  doublet  of  dark 
grey  cloth,  with  a  broad  Vandyke  collar,  high- 
crowned  hat,  buff  boots  reaching  above  the  knees, 
and  turned  over  at  the  tips.  Nor  did  his  wearing 
a  sword  certify  to  his  being  a  soldier.  In  those 
days  no  one  went  without  such  weapon,  especially 
when  on  a  journey,  as  he  was.  Thirty,  or  there- 
abouts, he  looked  a  little  older  through  his  com- 
plexion being  sun-browned,  as  from  foreign  service 
or  travel ;  which  had  also  left  its  traces  in  his  hair, 
a  strand  or  two  of  silver  beginning  to  show  in  a 
chevelure  otherwise  coal-black.  His  fine  sweeping 
moustaches,  however,  were  still  free  from  this  be- 
trayer of  middle  age  ;  while  his  well-balanced  figure, 
lithe  and  tersely  set,  bespoke  the  activity  of  a  yet 
youthful  manhood.  His  features,  oval  and  regular,  . 
were  of  a  type  denoting  firmness  ;  handsome,  too,  * 
with  their  tint  of  bronze,  which  lent  interest  to 
them,  lit  up  as  they  were  by  the  flashing  of  eagle 
eyes.  For  flash  these  did  excitedly,  almost  angrily, 
as  he  so  declared  himself  By  his  speech  he  should 
be  a  Puritan,  of  extremest  views  ;  for  that  he  naeant 


A  SWORD   DUEL  IN   THE   SADDLE.  IJ 

what  he  said  was  as  evident  from  the  emphasis 
given  to  his  words  as  from  the  expression  on  his 
face.  Still,  his  hair  showed  not  the  close  crop  of 
the  "  Roundhead  ; "  instead,  fell  down  in  curling 
luxuriance  as  affected  by  the  "  Cavalier ; "  while  a 
plume  of  cock's  feathers  set  jauntily  on  the  side  of 
his  hat  gave  him  more  the  air  of  the  latter  than  the 
former,  in  contradiction  to  the  sentiment  expressed, 
I;  There  could  be  no  mistaking  to  which  belonged 
the  personage  to  whom  he  addressed  his  speech. 
Of  the  Cavalier  class  sure,  as  the  effect  it  produced 
upon  him  would  have  told  of  itself.  But  the  style 
of  his  dress,  air,  bearing,  everything  proclaimed 
him  one.  A  youth  not  yet  turned  twenty,  in  garb 
of  silken  sheen  ;  coat  and  trunks  of  rich  yellow 
satin,  Cordovan  leather  boots,  with  a  wide  fringe 
of  lace  around  the  tops ;  spurs  gilt  or  of  gold, 
and  a  beaver  over  which  waved  a  panache  of  ostrich 
feathers,  upheld  in  a  jewelled  clasp.  His  sword 
belt  of  silk  velvet  was  elaborately  embroidered, 
the  needlework  looking  as  though  it  came  from 
the  fingers  of  a  lady  who  had  worked  with  a  will 
and  con  amove ;  the  gauntlets  of  his  white  gloves 
ornamented  in  a  similar  fashion  by  the  same. 
Handsome  he,  too,  but  of  manly  beauty,  quite 
differing  from  that  of  the  other,  even  to  contrast. 
With  a  bright,  radiant  complexion,  and  blonde  hair 
falling  in  curls  over  his  cheeks,  yet  unbearded,  his 
features  were  of  the  type  termed  aristocratic ;  such 
as  Endymion  possessed,  and  Phidias  would  have 
been  delighted  to  secure  for  a  model.  Habitually 
and  openly  wearing  a  gentle  expression,  there  was, 
at  the  same  time,  one  more  latent,  which  bespoke 
intellectual  strength  and  courage  of  no  common 
kind.  Passionate  anger,  too,  when  occasion  called 
for  it,  seeming  to  say,  **  Don't  put  upon  me  too 
much,  or  you'll  find  your  mistake." 


l6  NO  qOarterI 

Just  such  a  cast  came  over  them  as  he  listened 
to  what  the  other  said  ;  a  declaration  like  defiance, 
flung  in  his  teeth.  Although  meant  as  the  clincher 
of  a  political  argument  which  had  been  for  some 
time  going  on  between  them,  the  young  Cavalier, 
taken  aback  by  its  boldness,  and  doubtful  of  having 
heard  aright,  turned  sharply  upon  the  other, 
asking, — 

*^ What's  that  you  said,  sir?" 

"  That  the  man  who  is  not  a  Republican  must 
either  have  a  bad  head  or  a  bad  heart." 

This  time  more  emphatically,  as  though  nettled 
by  the  tone  of  the  other's  interrogative. 

"  Indeed  ! "  exclaimed  the  youth  reining  up,  for 
they  were  riding  along  a  road. 

"  Indeed,  yes,"  returned  the  older  man,  also 
drawing  bridle.  "Or  if  you  prefer  it  in  another 
form,  he  who  is  not  a  Republican  must  be  either 
a  knave  or  a  fool." 

**  You're  a  knave  to  say  so!"  cried  the  silken  youth, 
whose  rising  wrath  had  now  gathered  to  a  head,  his 
hand  as  he  spoke  crossing  to  the  hilt  of  his  sword. 

"Well,  youngster,"  rejoined  the  other,  seeming, 
on  the  contrary,  to  become  calmer,  and  speaking 
with  a  composure  strange  under  the  circumstances, 
"that's  speech  plain  enough,  and  rude  enough.  It 
almost  tempts  me  to  retort  by  calling  you  a  fool. 
But  I  won't ;  only,  if  you  value  your  life  you  must 
withdraw  your  words." 

"Not  one  of  them!  Never,  so  long  as  I  wear  a 
sword.  You  shall  eat  yours  first  1 "  and  he  whipped 
out  his  rapier. 

Though  journeying  side  by  side,  they  were  quite 
strangers  to  one  another,  an  accident  having 
brought  them  together  upon  the  road,  both  going 
in  the  same  direction.  It  was  up  the  steep  de- 
clivity leading  from  the  town  of  Mitcheldean  into 


A  SWORD   DUEL  IN   THE  SADDLE.  IJ 

the  Forest,  near  the  point  where  now  stands  a 
mansion  called  "  The  Wilderness."  Nor  were  they 
altogether  alone,  two  other  horsemen,  their  respec- 
tive body  servants,  riding  at  a  little  distance  behind. 
It  was  after  surmounting  the  slope,  and  having 
got  upon  level  ground,  that  their  conflict  of  words 
reached  the  climax  described,  likely  to  end  in  one 
of  blows.  For  to  this  the  fiery  youth  seemed  de- 
termined on  pushing  it. 

Not  so  the  other.  On  the  contrary,  he  still  sat 
composedly  in  his  saddle,  no  sign  of  drawing 
sword,  exhibiting  a  sarig  froid  curiously  in  contrast 
with  the  warmth  he  had  shown  in  the  wordy 
disputation.  It  surely  could  not  be  cowardice } 
If  so,  it  must  be  of  the  most  craven  kind,  after 
that  demand  for  withdrawal  of  the  insulting  words. 

And  as  such  the  Cavalier  conceived,  or  miscon- 
ceived, it,  crying  out, — 

"Draw,  caitiff!  Defend  yourself,  if  you  don't 
want  me  to  kill  you  in  cold  blood  1  " 

"  Ha-ha-ha  1 "  laughed  the  other,  lightly  and 
satirically.  "  It*s  just  because  I  don't  want  to 
kill  you  in  cold  blood  that  I  hesitate  baring  my 
blade." 

"  A  subterfuge — a  lie  !  "  shouted  the  youth,  stung 
to  madness  by  the  implied  taunt  of  his  inferiority. 
"  Do  your  best  and  worst.  Draw,  sirrah,  or  Til  run 
you  through.     Draw,  I  say  !  " 

"  Oh,  don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.  If  I  must  I 
must,  and,  to  oblige  you,  will,  though  it  dislikes 
me  to  do  murder — all  the  more  that  you've  a 
spark  of  spirit.     But " 

**  Do  it  if  you  can,"  interrupted  the  Cavalier,  un- 
heeding the  compliment.  "  I've  no  fear  of  your 
murdering  me.  Maybe  the  boot  will  be  on  the 
other  leg." 

Again    that    strange    expression    came   over   th^ 

Q 


i8  NO  quarter! 

face  of  the  older  man,  half-admiration,  half-com- 
passion, with  a  scarce  discernible  element  of  anger 
in  it.  Even  yet  he  appeared  reluctant  to  draw 
his  sword,  and  only  did  so  when  the  opprobrious 
epithet  Ldche — for  the  Cavaliers  spoke  a  smatter- 
ing of  French — was  flung  into  his  teeth  by  his  now 
furious  antagonist.  At  this,  unsheathing,  he  called 
out, — 

"  Your  blood  be  on  your  own  head.     To  guard  ! " 

"For  God  and  the  King!"  cried  the  challenger, 
as  he  tightened  grasp  on  hilt  and  rein,  setting 
himself  firmly  in  the  saddle. 

"  For  God  and  the  People ! "  followed  the  re- 
sponse antagonistic. 

A  prick  of  the  spur  by  both,  a  bound  forward, 
and  their  blades  crossed  with  a  clash,  their  horses 
shoulder  to  shoulder.  But  on  the  instant  of  en- 
gaging, that  of  the  Cavalier,  frayed  by  the  clink  of 
the  steel  and  its  flash  in  the  dazzling  sunlight, 
reared  up,  pivoting  round  to  the  right.  This 
brought  his  rider  left  side  to  his  antagonist,  giving 
the  latter  an  advantage  :  and  so  decided,  it  seemed 
as  though  he  could  bring  the  affair  to  an  end  at 
the  moment  of  commencement.  For  his  own 
better-trained  steed  had  stood  ground,  and  wanted 
only  another  touch  of  the  spur  to  carry  him  close 
enough  for  commanding  the  bridle  arm  of  his 
adversary,  and  all  under  it,  when  with  a  lunge  he 
might  thrust  him  through.  Surely  he  could  have 
done  this !  Yet  neither  spur  nor  sword  were  so 
exerted.  Instead,  he  sat  quietly  in  his  saddle, 
as  \i  waiting  for  his  adversary  to  recover  him- 
self! Which  the  latter  soon  did,  wheeling  short 
round,  and  again  furiously  engaging;  by  a  second 
misconception,  unaware  of  the  mercy  shown  him. 
This  time  as  they  came  to  the  '^engage"  the 
Cavalier's   horsQ   behaved   better,    standing    ground 


A  SWORD  DUEL  IK  TtiE  SADDLfi.  10 

till  several  thrusts  and  parades  were  exchanged 
between  them.  Clearly  the  silk-clad  youth  was 
no  novice  at  fencing,  but  as  clearly  the  other  was 
a  master  of  it,  and  equally  accomplished  as  a 
horseman ;  his  horse,  too,  so  disciplined  as  to  give 
him  little  bother  with  the  bridle.  A  spectator,  if 
a  connoisseur  in  the  art  d'escrime^  could  have  told 
how  the  combat  would  end  —  must  end  —  unless 
some  accident  favoured  the  younger  combatant 
As  it  was,  even  the  Fates  seemed  against  him,  his 
horse  again  rearing  en  pirouette,  and  to  the  wrong 
side,  placing  him  once  more  at  the  mercy  of  his 
antagonist.  And  again  the  latter  scorned,  or  de- 
clined, taking  advantage  of  it ! 

When  the  angry  youth  for  the  third  time  con- 
fronted him,  it  was  with  less  fury  in  his  look,  and 
a  lowered  confidence  in  his  skill.  For  now  he  not 
only  knew  his  own  inferiority  as  a  swordsman,  but 
was  troubled  with  an  indistinct  perception  of  the 
other's  generosity.  Not  clear  enough,  however,  to 
restrain  him  from  another  trial ;  and  their  swords 
came  together  in  a  third  crossing. 

This  time  the  play  was  short,  almost  as  at  the 
first.  Having  engaged  the  Cavalier's  blade  in  carte^ 
and  bound  it,  the  self-proclaimed  Republican  with 
a  quick  flanconnade  plunged  the  point  of  his  own 
straight  for  his  adversary's  wrist.  Like  the  pro- 
truded tongue  of  a  serpent,  it  went  glistening  into 
the  white  gauntlet,  which  instantly  showed  a  spot 
of  red,  with  blood  spurting  out ;  while  the  rapier 
of  the  Cavalier,  struck  from  his  grasp,  flew  off,  and 
fell  with  a  ring  upon  the  road. 


CHAPTER  11. 

FOES  BECOME  FRIENDS. 

The  young  Cavalier  was  now  altogether  at  the 
mercy  of  his  older,  and  as  proved,  abler  antagonist ; 
knew  the  latter  could  take  his  life,  and  had  the 
right,  as  well  as  good  reason,  from  the  great  pro- 
vocation given  him  in  that  shower  of  insulting 
epithets— the  latest  of  them  '' Ldche !''  For  all, 
he  quailed  not,  neither  made  attempt  to  elude  the 
next  thrust  of  the  victorious  sword.  Instead,  stood 
his  ground,  crying  out, — 

"You  have  conquered!     You  can  kill  me!" 

"  Kill  you  !  "  rejoined  the  victor,  with  the  same 
light  laugh  as  before.  "That's  just  what  IVe  been 
endeavouring  not  to  do.  But  it  has  cost  me  an 
effort — all  my  skill.  Had  you  been  an  ordinary 
swordsman  I'd  have  disarmed  you  at  the  first  pass 
after  engaging.  I've  done  it  with  others,  half  a 
dozen  or  more.  With  you,  'twas  just  as  much  as 
I  was  able,  without  absolutely  taking  your  life— a 
thing  far  from  my  thoughts,  and  as  far  from  my 
wishes.  And  now  that  all's  over,  and  we've  neither 
of  us  murdered  the  other,  am  I  to  say  *  Surrender'  .'^ " 

He  still  spoke  laughingly,  but  without  the 
sli;-;htest  tone  of  satire,  or  show  of  exultation. 

'*  You  can  command  it,"  promptly  responded  the 
vanquished  youth,  now  duubiy  vanquished.  "  I  cry 
*  Quarter  ' — crave  it,  if  you  like." 

It  was  no  fear  of  death  made  him  thus  humbly 


FOES   BECOME  FRIENDS.  21 

submit,  but  a  sudden  revulsion,  an  outburst  of  grati- 
tude, to  a  conqueror  alike  merciful  and  generous. 

Ere  this  their  attendants  had  got  upon  the 
ground,  seeming  undecided  whether  to  pitch  in 
with  their  masters,  or  cross  swords  on  their  own 
account.  Both  had  drawn  them,  and  waited  but 
word  or  sign,  scowHng  savagely  at  each  other. 
Had  it  come  to  blows  between  the  men,  the  result, 
in  all  probability,  would  have  been  as  with  their 
masters ;  the  Cavalier^s  light-weight  varlet  looking 
anything  but  a  match  for  the  stout-bodied,  veteran- 
like individual  who  was  henchman  to  his  antagonist. 
As  it  was,  they  had  not  resolved  themselves  till 
the  combat  came  to  an  end.  Then  hearing  the 
word  "quarter,"  and  seeing  signs  of  amity  restored, 
they  slipped  their  blades  back  into  the  scabbards, 
and  sate  awaiting  orders. 

Only  one  of  them  received  any  just  then — he 
the  heavy  one. 

"Dismount,  Hubert,"  commanded  his  master, 
"and  return  his  weapon  to  this  young  gentleman, 
who,  as  you  can  testify,  well  deserves  to  wear  it. 
And  now,  sir,"  he  continued  to  the  young,  gentle- 
man himself,  "  along  with  your  sword  let  me  offer 
you  some  apologies,  which  are  owing.  I  admit  my 
words  were  rather  rough,  and  call  for  qualification, 
or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  explanation.  When  I 
said,  that  the  man  who  is  not  a  Republican  must 
be  deficient  either  in  head  or  heart,  I  meant  one 
who  has  reached  the  years  of  discretion,  and  seen 
something  of  the  world — as,  for  instance,  myself. 
At  your  age  I  too  was  a  believer  in  kings — even 
the  doctrine  of  Divine  Right — brought  up  to  it. 
Possibly,  when  you  hear  my  name  you'll  admit  that.'* 

"  You  will  give  me  your  name  ? "  asked  the 
other,  eagerly.  "  I  wish  it,  that  I  may  know  to 
whom  I  am  beholden  for  so  much  generosity." 


22  NO  quarter! 

"Very  generous  on  your  part  to  say  so.     I  am 

Sir  Richard  Walwyn." 

"  Ah !  A  relative  of  the  Scud  a  mores,  are  you 
not?" 

"A  distant  relative.  But  IVe  not  seen  any  of 
them  lately,  having  just  come  back  from  the  Low 
Countries,  where  I've  been  fighting  a  bit.  In 
better  practice  from  that,  with  my  hand  still  in, 
which  may  account  for  my  having  got  the  better  of 
you,"  and  he  again  laughed  lightly. 

The  young  Cavalier  protested  against  the  generous 
admission,  and  then  went  on  to  say  he  knew  the 
Scudamores  well— especially  Lord  Scudamore,  of 
Horn  Lacy. 

"  IVe  often  met  his  lordship  at  the  Palace," 
was  the  concluding  remark. 

"At  what  palace,  pray?"  inquired  Sir  Richard. 

"Oh!  Whitehall.  I  did  not  think  of  specify- 
ing." 

"  Which  proves  that  you  yourself  come  from  it  ? 
One  of  the  King's  people,  I  take  it ;  or  in  the 
Queen's  service,  more  like  ?  " 

"  I  was,  but  not  now.  I've  been  at  Court  for  the 
last  few  months  in  the  capacity  of  gentleman  usher." 

"And  now?  But  I  crave  pardon.  It  is  rude  of 
me  to  cross-question  you  thus." 

"Not  at  all,  Sir  Richard.  You  have  every  right. 
After  being  so  frank  with  me,  I  owe  you  equal 
frankness.  I've  given  up  the  appointment  I  held  at 
Court,  and  am  now  on  my  way  home — to  my 
father's  house  in  Monmouthshire." 

"Your  father  is ?" 

"Sir  William  Trevor." 

"Ah!  now  I  can  understand  why  your  blood 
boiled  up  at  my  strenuous  defence  of  the  Parlia- 
ment— the  son  of  Sir  William  Trevor.  But  we 
won't  enter  upon  politics  again.     After  blows,  word^ 


FOES   BECOME   FRIENDS.  ±^ 

are  inadmissible,  as  ungracious.  Your  father's 
house  is  near  Abergavenny,  if  I  remember  rightly?" 

"  It  is." 

"That's  good  twenty-seven  miles  from  here.  You 
don't  purpose  going  on  there  to-night?" 

"  No  ;  I  intend  putting  up  for  the  night  at  Mon- 
mouth." 

"  Well,  that's  within  the  possibilities ;  but  not 
with  daylight,  unless  you  press  your  horse  hard— 
and  he  looks  rather  jaded." 

"  No  wonder.  I've  ridden  him  all  the  way  from 
Witney,  in  Oxfordshire,  since  six  this  morning." 

"  He  must  be  good  stuff  to  stand  it,  and  show 
the  spirit  he  did  just  now.  But  for  all  he  seems 
rather  badly  done  up— another  reason  for  my 
having  got  the  better  of  you." 

At  this  both  smiled,  the  young  Cavalier,  as 
before,  refusing  to  accept  the  complimentary 
acknowledgment. 

"  A  pity,"  ran  on  Sir  Richard,  "  to  press  the  poor 
animal  farther  to  night — that  is,  so  far  as  Mon- 
mouth. It's  all  of  ten  miles  yet,  and  the  road 
difficult — pitches  up  and  down.  You  should  rest 
him  nearer,  by  way  of  reward  for  his  noble  per- 
formance of  the  day." 

"  Indeed,  I  was  thinking  of  it ;  had  half  made  up 
my  mind  to  sleep  at  Coleford." 

"  Ah !  you  mus'n't  stop  at  Coleford,  much  le«s 
sleep  there." 

"And  why  not.?" 

"  The  Coleford  people  are  mad  angry  with  the 
King,  as  are  most  others  in  the  Forest.  No 
wonder,  from  the  way  Sir  John  Wintour  has  been 
behaving  to  them  since  he  got  the  monopoly  grant 
of  what  his  Majesty  had  no  right  to  give — rights 
that  are  theirs.  Their  blood's  up  about  it,  and 
just    now    to    appear    in    the    streets  of   Coleford 


^4  ^0  QUARTER  I 

dressed  as  you  are,  cavalier  and  courtier  fashion, 
might  be  attended  with  danger.** 

"  ril  risk— defy  it !  " 

"  Bravely  spoken,  and  IVe  no  doubt  you'd  bravely 
do  both.  But  there's  no  need  for  your  doing  one  or 
the  other." 

•^If  you  describe  these  Coleford  fellows  aright, 
how  can  I  help  it,  Sir  Richard  ?  My  road  passes 
through  their  town." 

"True,  but  there's  a  way  you  may  avoid  ft." 

**  Oh !  Fm  not  going  to  skulk  round,  taking  by- 
paths, like  a  thief  or  deerstealer.  I'll  give  them  a 
fight  first." 

"  And  that  fight  might  be  your  last — likely  would, 
Master  Trevor.  But  no.  You've  fought  your  way 
info  the  Forest  so  gallantly,  it  behoves  him  you 
all  but  conquered  to  see  you  safe  out  of  it.  To 
do  which,  however,  I  niust  ask  you  to  give  up  all 
thoughts  of  sleeping  either  at  Monmouth  or  Cole* 
ford,  and  be  my  guest  for  the  night.^ 

"  But  where.  Sir  Richard  ?  I  did  not  know  that 
you  had  a  house  in  the  Forest." 

"Nor  have  I.  But  one  of  my  friends  has;  and 
I  think  I  can  promise  you  fair  hospitality  in  it — by 
proxy.  Besides,  that  little  hole  I've  made  in  your 
hand — sorry  at  having  made  it — needs  looking  to 
without  delay,  and  my  friend  has  some  skill  as  a  sur- 
geon. I  could  offer  some  other  inducements  that 
might  help  in  deciding  you — as,  for  instance,  a  pair 
of  pretty  faces  to  see.  But  coming  from  the  Court 
of  Queen  Henriette,  with  her  galaxy  of  grand  dames, 
perhaps  you've  had  a  surfeit  of  that  sort  of  thing." 

The  young  courtier  shifted  uneasily  in  his  saddle, 
a  slight  blush  coming  over  his  cheeks,  as  though 
the  words  rather  gave  him  pain. 

"  If  not,"  continued  Sir  Richard,  without  heeding 
these  indices  of  emotion,  "I  can  promise  to  show 


FOES  BECOME   FRIENDS.  2$ 

you  something  rare  in  the  way  of  feminine  beauty. 
For  that  I'll  back  Sabrina  and  Vaga  against  all 
your  maids  of  honour  and  court  ladies — the  Queen 
included — and  win  with  either." 

"  Sabrina  !  Vaga  !  Singular  names  !  May  I  ask 
who  the  ladies  are  ? " 

**  You  may  do  more — make  their  acquaintance, 
if  you  consent  to  my  proposal.     You  will  ? " 

'*  Sir  Richard,  your  kindness  overpowers  me.  I 
am  at  your  service  every  way." 

"Thanks!  Let  us  on,  then,  without  delay. 
WeVe  yet  full  five  miles  of  road  before  us,  ere  we 
can  reach  the  cage  that  holds  this  pair  of  pretty 
birds.     Allans  !*' 

At  which  he  gave  his  horse  the  spur,  Trevor 
doing  the  same  ;  and  once  more  the  two  rode  side 
by  side;  but  friendly  now — even  to  affection. 


CHAPTER  111. 

BEAUTIFUL   FOREST  BIRDS. 

In  all  England's  territory  there  is  no  district  mord 
interesting  than  the  Forest  of  Dean.  Historically 
it  figures  in  our  earliest  annals,  as  borderland  and 
bulwark  of  the  ancient  Silures,  who,  with  Caractacus 
at  their  head,  held  the  country  around,  defending  it 
on  many  a  hard-fought  field  against  the  legionaries 
of  Ostorius  Scapula.  Centuries  after,  it  again  be- 
came the  scene  of  sanguinary  strife  between  the 
descendants  of  these  same  Silures — then  better 
known  as  Britons — and  the  Saxon  invaders;  and 
still  farther  down  the  stream  of  time  another 
invasion  wasted  it — Norman  and  Saxon  arrayed 
on  the  same  side  against  Welsh — still  '  the  same 
warlike  stock,  the  sons  of  Siluria.  This  conflict 
against  odds  —  commencing  with  the  Norman 
William,  and  continued,  or  renewed,  down  through 
the  days  made  illustrious  by  the  gallant  Llewellyn 
— only  came  to  an  end  with  those  of  the  equally 
gallant  Glendower,  when  the  fires  of  Welsh 
independence,  now  and  then  blazing  up  intermit- 
tently, were  finally  and  for  ever  trodden  out 

Many  a  grand  historic  name  is  associated  with 
this  same  Forest  of  Dean — famed  warriors  and 
famous  or  infamous  kings.  The  Conqueror  him- 
self was  hunting  in  it  when  the  news  reached  him 
of  the  rising  in  Northumberland,  and  he  swore 
**  By  the  splendour  of  God,  he  would  lay  that  land 


BEAUTIFUL  FOREST  BIRDS,  2/ 

waste  by  fire  and  sword  ! " — a  cruel  oath,  as  cruelly 
kept.  In  its  dark  recesses  the  wretched  Edward  II. 
endeavoured  to  conceal  himself,  but  in  vain — dragged 
thence  to  imprisonment  in  the  dungeons  of  Berkeley 
Castle,  there  to  die.  And  within  its  boundaries  was 
born  that  monarch  of  most  romantic  fame,  Harry 
of  Monmouth,  hero  of  Agincourt. 

And  the  day  was  approaching — had,  in  fact, 
come — when  other  names  that  brighten  the  page 
of  England's  history  were  to  fling  their  halo  of 
illumination  over  the  Forest  of  Dean — those  of 
the  chivalrous  Waller,  the  brave  but  modest 
Massey,  Essex,  Fairfax,  and  greatest,  most  glorious 
of  all,  that  of  Cromwell  himself.  It  was  to  be 
darkened  too,  as  by  the  shadow  of  death — aye, 
death  itself — through  many  a  raid  of  marauding 
Cavaliers,  with  the  ruffian  Rupert  at  their  head. 

Dropping  history,  and  returning  to  its  interest 
otherwise,  the  Forest  of  Dean  claims  attention 
from  peculiarities  of  many  kinds.  Geologically 
regarded,  it  is  an  outlier  of  the  carboniferous  system 
of  South  Wales,  from  which  it  is  separated  by 
a  breadth  of  the  Devonian  that  has  been  denuded 
between — so  widely  separated  as  to  have  similitude 
to  an  island  in  the  far-off  ocean.  An  elevated  island, 
too,  rising  above  the  *'  Old  Red,"  through  successive 
strata  of  shales,  mountain  limestone,  and  millstone 
grit,  to  nearly  a  thousand  feet  higher  than  the 
general  level  of  the  surrounding  terrain.  Towards 
this,  on  every  side,  and  all  round  for  miles  and  tens 
of  miles,  it  presents  a  faqade  not  actually  precipitous, 
but  so  steep  and  difficult  of  ascent  as  to  make 
horses  breathe  hard  climbing  it ;  while  in  loaded 
cart  or  wagon,  teams  have  to  be  doubled.  Just 
such  a  "  pitch "  was  that  on  whose  top  the  bitter 
war  of  words  between  Eustace  Trevor  and  Sir 
Richard  Walwyn  had  come  to  blows. 


28  NO  QUARTER  I 

But,  though  thus  high  in  air,  the  Forest  of  Dean 
does  not  possess  the  usual  characteristics  of  what 
are  termed  plateaux^  or  elevated  tablelands.  As  a 
rule  these  show  a  level  surface,  or  with  but  gentle 
undulations,  while  that  of  the  Forest  is  everywhere 
intersected  by  deep  valleys  and  ravines. 

A  very  interesting  geological  fact  is  oflfered  in 
the  surface  formation  of  this  singular  tract  of 
country,  its  interior  area  being  in  most  places 
much  lower  than  the  rim  around  it.  The  peculi- 
arity is  due  to  the  hard  carboniferous  limestone, 
which  forms  its  periphery,  having  better  resisted 
denudation  than  the  softer  matrix  of  the  coal 
measures  embraced  by  it  The  disintegrating  rains, 
and  the  streams,  often  torrents,  their  resulting 
sequence,  have  here  and  there  cut  channels  of 
escape  outward — some  running  west  into  the  Wye, 
some  eastward  to  espouse  the  Severn. 

Very  different  is  the  Forest  of  Dean  now  from  what 
it  was  in  those  days  of  which  this  tale  treats — terri- 
torially more  restricted,  both  in  its  boundaries  and 
the  area  once  bearing  its  name.  Then  it  extended 
over  the  whole  triangular  space  between  the  two 
great  rivers,  from  the  towns  of  Ross  and  Gloucester 
down  to  their  union  in  the  wide  sea-like  estuary  of 
the  Severn.  Changed,  too,  in  the  character  of  its 
scenery.  Now,  here  and  there,  a  tall  chimney  may 
be  seen  soaring  up  out  of  its  greenery  of  trees, 
and  vomiting  forth  volumes  of  murky  smoke,  in 
striking  disagreeable  contrast  with  their  verdure. 
Then  there  was  nothing  of  this  kind; — at  least 
nothing  to  jar  upon  the  mind,  or  mar  the  harmony 
of  nature.  Then,  too,  it  was  a  real  forest  of  grand 
old  trees,  with  a  thick  tangle  of  underwood,  luxu- 
riant and  shady.  For  the  Court  favourite.  Sir  John 
Wintour,  had  not  yet  wasted  it  with  his  five  hundred 
woodcutters,  all  chopping  and  hacking  away  at  the 


feEAUtlFUL  FOREST   BIRDS.  2^ 

same  time.  It  was  only  after  the  Restoration  he 
did  that  ;  the  robber's  monopoly  granted  him  by 
the  "  Martyr  King "  having  been  re-bestowed  by 
the  "  Merry  Monarch." 

There  were  towns  in  the  Forest  then,  notwith- 
standing— some  of  them  busy  centres  as  now ;  but 
the  majority  peaceful  villages  or  hamlets  ;  country 
houses,  too,  some  of  pretentious  style — mansions, 
and  castles.  A  few  pf  these  yet  exist,  if  in  ruins; 
others  known  only  by  record ;  and  still  others 
totally  gone  out  of  history — lost  even  to  legend. 

The  Forest  roads  were  then  but  bridle  paths, 
or  trackways  for  the  packhorse ;  no  fencing  on 
either  side ;  the  narrow  list  of  trodden  ground 
running  centrally  between  wide  borderings  of  grass- 
grown  sward  ;  so  that  the  traveller,  if  a  horseman, 
had  the  choice  of  soft  turf  for  the  hoofs  of  his 
roadster.  Only  on  the  main  routes  between  the 
larger  towns,  and  those  going  outward,  was  there 
much  traffic.  The  bye-roads  had  all  the  character 
of  green  lanes,  narrow,  but  now  and  then  de- 
bouching into  glades,  and  openings  of  larger  area, 
where  the  small  Forest  sheep — progeny  of  the 
Welsh  mountaineers — browsed  upon  pasture,  spare 
and  close-cropped,  in  the  companionship  of  donkeys, 
and  perchance  a  deer,  or  it  might  be  a  dozen, 
moving  among  them  in  amiable  association.  The 
sheep  and  the  donkeys  are  there  still,  but  the  deer, 
alas  !  are  gone.  Many  birds  that  built  their  nests 
in  the  Foiest  trees,  or  soared  above,  are  there  no 
more.  The  eagle  makes  not  now  its  eyrie  in  the 
Coldwell  Rocks  or  soars  bver  Symonds'  Yat ;  even 
the  osprey  is  but  rarely  seen  pursuing  its  finny 
prey  in  the  lower  waters  of  either  Wye  or  Severn. 
Still,  the  falconid(B  are  to  this  day  represented  in 
the  Forest  district  by  numerous  species,  by  the 
kite  and   kestrel ;    the    buzzard,   Common,   Rough- 


^6  NO  QtrARtEH! 

legged,  and  Honey ;  by  the  goshawk  and  sparfoW- 
havvk  ;  the  hobby  and  harriers ;  and  if  last,  not 
least,  in  estimation,  the  graceful  diminutive  merlin. 
Birds  of  bright  feathers,  too,  still  flit  through  the 
Forest's  trees ;  the  noisy  jay,  the  gawdy,  green 
woodpecker,  and  the  two  spotted  species  ;  with  the 
kingfisher  of  cerulean  hue ;  while  its  glades  are 
gladdened  by  the  sweet  song  of  the  thrush,  the 
bolder  lay  of  the  blackbird  ;  in  springtide,  the 
matchless  melody  of  the  nightingale — the  joyous 
twittering  of  linnets  and  finches,  mingling  with 
the  softer  notes  of  the  cushat  and  turtle-dove. 


On  that  calm  summer  evening,  when  the  clinking 
of  swords  on  Mitcheldean-hill  frightened  the  Forest 
birds,  for  a  time  stilling  their  voices,  on  another 
hill,  some  three  miles  distant  from  the  scene  of 
strife,  the  sweet  songsters  were  being  disturbed 
by  intrusion  upon  their  wild-wood  domain.  Not 
much  disturbed,  however,  nor  could  the  disturbers 
be  justly  characterized  as  intruders.  Even  the 
birds  themselves  might  have  been  glad  to  see, 
and  welcome  among  them,  things  of  brightness 
and  beauty  far  beyond  their  own.  Women  they 
were,  or  rather  girls,  both  being  under  age — for 
there  were  but  two  of  them.  Sisters,  moreover, 
though  there  was  scarce  a  trait  of  resemblance 
to  betray  the  relationship,  either  in  features  or 
complexion.  She  who  seemed  the  elder  was 
dark  as  a  gipsy,  the  other  a  clear  blonde^  with 
hair  showering  over  her  shoulders,  of  hue  as  the 
beams  of  the  sinking  sun  that  shimmered  upon  it. 
For  all,  both  were  alike  beautiful ;  in  a  different 
way,  but  unquestionably  beautiful.  And  that  they 
were  sisters  could  be  learnt  by  listening  to  their 
conversation :  ^W\x  names,  also,  as   they  addressed 


BEAUTIFUL   FOREST  BIRDS.  31 

one     another  —  that    of    the    older,    Sabrina ;    the 
younger,  Vaga. 

They  could  not  be  other  than  the  pair  of  pretty 
birds  spoken  of  by  Sir  Richard  Walwyn ;  and, 
verily,  he  had  not  overrated  them. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

OUT     FOR    A    WALIC 

Unlike  in  other  respects,  the  sisters  were  unequal 
in  height — the  elder  being  the  taller.  With  some 
difference  in  their  dress,  too,  though  both  wore  the 
ordinary  out-door  costume  of  the  day.  It  was 
rather  graceful  than  splendid,  for  the  hideous 
farthingale  of  the  Elizabethan  era  was  then  going 
out  of  fashion,  and  their  gowns,  close-fitting  in 
body  and  sleeves,  displayed  the  outlines  of  figures 
that  were  perfection.  Theirs  were  not  charms  that 
needed  heightening  by  any  adornment  of  dress. 
However  plainly  attired,  there  was  in  their  air 
and  carriage  that  grace  which  distinguishes  the 
gentlewoman.  Still,  the  younger  was  not  without 
affectation  of  ornament.  Her  French  hood  of  bright- 
coloured  silk,  looped  under  the  chin,  was  so  coifed 
as  to  show  in  a  coquettish  way  her  wealth  of 
radiant  hair,  and  beneath  the  gorget  ruff  gleamed 
a  necklet  of  gold,  with  rings  in  her  ears.  There 
was  embroidery,  also,  on  the  bodice  and  sleeves 
of  her  gown—  doubtless  the  work  of  her  own  fair 
fingers.  In  those  days  ladies,  even  the  grandest 
dames,  were  not  above  using  the  needle. 

Sabrina's  hood,  of  a  more  sombre  hue,  was 
quite  as  becoming,  and  more  suitable  to  her  darker 
complexion.  Her  general  attire,  too,  was  appro- 
priate to  her  character,  -which  was  of  the  staid, 
§,Qber  kind.     Both  wore  strong,  thick-soled  shoe^--* 

5? 


OtfT   FOR  A  WALK.  33 

being  out  for  a  walk — but  neither  these  nor  home- 
kiiitted  stockings,  which  their  short  skirts  per- 
mitted view  of,  could  hinder  the  eye  from  behold- 
ing feet  small  and  finely-shaped,  with  high  instep 
and  elegant  tournure  of  ankles.    . 

Good  walkers  they  were,  as  could  be  told  by 
the  way  they  stepped  along  the  Forest  road  ; 
for  they  were  on  one.  It  was  that  which  ran 
from  Ruardean  to  Drybrook,  and  their  faces  were 
set  in  the  direction  of  the  latter.  Between  the 
two  towns  a  high  ridge  is  interposed,  and  this 
they  were  ascending  from  the  Ruardean  side. 
Before  they  had  reached  its  summit,  Vaga,  coming 
abruptly  to  a  stop,  said  : — 

"Don't  you  think  weVe  walked  far  enough?" 

"  Why  ?     Are  you  tired  ?  " 

"  No — not  that.  But  it  occurs  to  me  we  may 
be  wandering  too  far  from  home." 

That  Sabrina  was  not  wandering  might  have 
been  told  by  her  step,  straightforward,  as  also 
her  earnest  glances,  interrogating  the  road  ahead 
at  every  turning.  As  these  had  been  somewhat 
surreptitiously,  though  not  timidly,  given,  the  other 
had  hitherto  failed  to  notice  them.  Indeed,  Vaga 
was  not  all  the  while  by  her  side,  nor  keeping 
step  with  her.  A  huge  dog  of  the  Old  English 
mastiff  breed  more  occupied  her  attention ;  the 
animal  every  now  and  then  making  a  rush  at  the 
browsing  sheep,  and  sending  them  helter-skelter 
among  the  trees,  his  young  mistress — for  the  dog 
was  hers — clapping  her  hands  with  delight,  and 
crying  him  on  regardless  of  the  mischief  It  was 
only  when  no  more  of  the  little  Welsh  muttons 
were  to  be  seen  along  the  road  that  she  joined 
her  sister,  and  put  in  that  plea  for  turning 
back. 

"  So  far  from    home ! "    repeated    Sabrina,  with 

D 


34  ^O  QUARTER  1 

feigned  surprise.  "Why,  we  haven't  come  quite 
two  miles — not  much  over  one." 

"  True  ;  but '* 

"But  what?     Are  you  afraid ?* 

"  A  little— I  confess." 

"And  the  cause  of  your  fear?  Not  wolves? 
If  so,  I  can  release  you  from  it.  It's  now  quite 
half  a  century  since  there  was  a  wolf  seen  in  this 
Forest ;  and  he — poor,  lonely  creature,  the  last 
of  his  race — was  most  unmercifully  slain.  The 
Foresters,  being  mostly  of  Welsh  ancestry,  have 
an  hereditary  hatred  of  the  lupine  species,  I  sup- 
pose from  that  mischance  which  befel  the  infant 
Llewellyn." 

Vaga  laughed,  as  she  rejoined  :— 

"  Instead  of  having  a  fear  of  wolves,  Fd  like  to 
see  one  just  now.  Hector,  Fm  sure,  would  show 
fight ;  aye,  and  conquer  it,  too,  as  did  the  famed 
Beth-Gelert  his.  Wouldn't  you,  old  Hec  ?  Aye ! 
that  you  would." 

At  which  the  mastiff,  rearing  up,  set  his  paws 
against  her  breast  to  receive  the  caressess  ex- 
tended ;  and,  after  these  being  given  him,  scam- 
pered off  again  in  search  of  more  sheep. 

"Then  what  are  you  afraid  of?"  asked  Sabrina, 
"Ghosts?  There  are  none  of  them  in  the  Forest 
either.  If  there  were,  no  danger  of  their  showing 
themselves  by  daylight,  and  we'll  be  back  home 
long  before  the  sun  goes  down.     Ha,  ha,  ha  !  " 

It  was  as  unusual  for  the  older  of  the  sisters  to 
talk  in  such  a  light  strain  as  it  was  for  the 
younger  to  speak  otherwise.  Just  then  each  had 
a  reason  for  this   reversion  of  their  ro/es. 

Further  questioned  as  to  the  cause  of  her  fear, 
Vaga  made  answer,  saying, — 

"You're  merry,  sister  Sab,  and  I'm  right  glad 
to  see  you  so.     But  what  I  meant  isn't   a   matter 


OUT  FOR  A  WALK.  35 

for  jest ;  instead,   something   to   be   really   alarmed 
about." 

"When  youVe  told  me  what  it  is,  Til  give  my 
opinion  upon  it.  If  neither  wolves  nor  ghosts, 
what  can  it  be?     Bipeds  or  quadrupeds?" 

**  Bipeds,  and  of  the  sort  most  to  be  dreaded — 
brutal  men." 

"  Oh  !  that's  it.  But  what  men  are  there  about 
here  deserving  to  be  so  characterized  ? " 

"  None  about  here,  I  hope  and  believe.  But 
you  know,  sister,  what's  going  on  all  around  the 
Forest :  those  mobs  of  lawless  fellows  down  at 
Monmouth  and  Lydney.  Suppose  some  of  them 
to  be  coming  this  way  and   meet  us  ? " 

"  I  don't  suppose  it,  and  needn't.  The  malig 
nants  of  Monmouth  and  Lydney  are  not  likely 
to  be  upon  this  road.  If  they  did,  'twould  be  at 
their  peril.  The  men  of  Ruardean  and  Drybrook 
are  of  a  different  sort — the  right  sort.  Should  we 
meet  any  of  them,  though  they  may  be  a  little 
rough  in  appearance,  they  won't  be  rude.  No 
true  Forester  ever  is  to  a  woman,  whether  lady 
or  not.  That  they  leave  to  the  foreign  elements 
Sir  John  Wintour  has  brought  to  Lydney,  and 
the  so-called  Cavaliers  on  the  Monmouth  side — 
those  braggarts  of  their  blood  and  gallant  bearing, 
most  of  them  the  veriest  scum  of  the  country, 
its  gamesters  and  tapsters,  the  sweepings  of  the 
alehouse  and  stable  !  Cavaliers,  indeed  !  who  know 
not  politeness  to  man  nor  respect  for  woman ; 
care  neither  for  national  honour  nor  social  de- 
cency !  *' 

The  enlightened  young  lady  spoke  with  a 
warmth  bordering  upon  indignation.  With  truth, 
too,  as  might  one  of  her  sort  now  about  Tories 
and  Jingoes.  But,  alas !  now  there  are  but  few 
of  her  sort,  youthful  and  enthusiastic  in  the  cause 


36  NO  quarter! 

of  liberty  ;  instead,  ancient  maidens  of  wealth  and 
title,  some  of  whose  ancestors  trod  the  stage 
playing  at  charity  for  the  sake  of  popularity ; 
patronizing  play-actors  and  endowing  homes  for 
strayed  dogs !  showing  a  shameless  sympathy  with 
the  foul  murdering  Turk  and  his  red-handed  atro- 
cities ;  last  and  latest  of  all,  having  the  effrontery — 
impertinent  as  unfeminine — to  counsel,  aye,  dictate, 
political  action  to  England's  people,  telling  them 
how  they  should  cast  their  votes ! 

,  What  a  contrast  between  their  doings  and  the 
sayings  and  sentiments  of  that  young  Poorest  girl 
— all  that  lies   between  the  mean  and  the  noble  1 

*'  But,"  she  went  on,  in  reference  to  the  gentle-^ 
men  of  the  gaming-house  and  hostelry  tap-room, 
**we  needn't  fear  meeting  them  here,  nor  anywhere 
through  the  Forest  The  Foresters — brave  fellows 
—are  for  the  Parliament  almost  to  a  man.  Should 
we  encounter  any  of  them  on  our  walk,  I'll  answer 
for  their  good  behaviour  and  kind-heartedness — 
something  more,  if  knowing  who  we  are.  Father 
is  a  favourite  with  them  for  having  taken  their 
side  against  the  usurpations  of  Wintour ;  though 
they  liked  him  before  that,  and  I'm  proud  of  their 
doing  so." 

"  Oh !  so  am  I,  Sabrina.  I'm  as  fond  of  our 
dear  Foresters  as  you.  It  isn't  of  them  I  had  any 
fear.  But,  apart  from  all  that,  I  think  it's  time  we 
turn  our  steps  homeward.  We're  surely  now  two 
miles  from  Hollymead  ;  and  see !  the  sun's  hasten- 
ing to  go  down  behind  the  Welsh  hills." 

While  so  delivering  herself,  she  faced  round, 
the  Welsh  hills  being  behind  their  backs  as  they 
walked  towards  Drybrook. 

"  Hasten  as  it  likes,"  rejoined  Sabrina,  "  it  can't 
get  down  for  at  least  another  hour.  That  will 
give  us  ample  time   to  go    on  to   the  top  of  the 


CUT  FOR  A  WALK.  37 

hill  and  back  to  Hollymead  before  supper;  which 
last,  if  I  mistake  not,  is  the  chief  cause  of  your 
anxiety  to  be  at  home." 

"  For  shame,  Sabrina !  You  know  it  isn't — the 
last  thing  in  my  thoughts." 

Sabrina  did  know  that ;  knew,  also,  she  was  not 
speaking  her  own  thoughts,  but  using  subterfuge 
to  conceal  them.  It  was  herself  had  proposed 
the  stroll  she  seemed  so  desirous  of  continuing. 
To  her  its  termination  would  not  be  satisfactory 
without  attaining  the  summit  of  the  ridge  whose 
slope  they  were  ascending. 

Thrown  back  by  what  her  younger  sister  had 
said,  but  still  determined  to  proceed,  without  giving 
the  true  reason,  she  bethought  herself  of  one,  false 
though  plausible. 

"  Well,  Vag,"  she  laughingly  pursued,  "  I  was 
only  jesting,  as  you  know.  But  there's  one  thing 
I  hate  to  do — never  could  do,  that's  to  half  climb 
a  hill  without  going  on  to  its  top.  It  seems  like 
breaking  down  or  backing  out,  and  crying  *  sur- 
render,'— which  our  dear  father  has  taught  us 
never  to  do.  Up  to  the  summit  yonder  is  but 
a  step  now.  It  won't  take  us  ten  minutes  more 
to  reach  it ;  besides,  I  want  to  see  something  I 
haven*t  set  eyes  on  for  a  long  while — that  grand 
valley  through  which  meanders  my  namesake, 
Sabrina.  And  looking  back  from  there,  you  can 
also  feast  your  eyes  on  that  in  which  wanders 
yours,  Vaga,  capricious  like  yourself.  In  addition," 
she  added,  not  heeding  her  sister's  shrug  of  the 
shoulders,  "we'll  there  get  a  better  view  of  a 
glorious  sunset  that's  soon  to  be  over  the  Hatteral 
Hills ;  and  the  twilight  after  will  give  us  ample 
time  to  get  home  before  the  supper  table  be  set. 
So,  why  should  you  hinder  me — to  say  nothing  of 
yourself— from  indulging  in  a  little  bit  of  aesthetics  ?  " 


38  NO  QtJARTERl 

"  Hinder  you ! "  exclaimed  Vaga,  protestingly. 
"  I  hinder !     You  shan't  say  that." 

And  at  the  words  she  went  bounding  on  up- 
ward, like  a  mountain  antelope  ;  not  stopping  again 
till  she  stood  on  the  summit  of  the  hill. 


CHAPTER  V. 

WAITING  AND  WATCHING. 

Following  with  alacrity,  Sabrina  was  soon  again 
by  the  side  of  her  sister.  But  just  then  no  further 
speech  passed  between  them.  Not  that  both  were 
silent.  On  the  crest  of  the  ridge,  treeless  and 
overgrown  with  gorse,  Hector  had  run  foul  of  a 
donkey,  and  after  a  short  chase  was  holding  it 
at  bay.  With  his  barks  were  mingled  cries  of 
encouragement  from  his  mistress,  laughter,  and 
patting  of  her  hands,  as  she  hounded  him  on. 
Possibly  had  the  Forester,  Neddy's  owner,  come  up 
at  that  moment,  he  might  not  have  shown  the 
politeness  for  which  Sabrina  had  given  his  fellows 
credit.  But  the  young  lady  meant  no  harm  ;  nor 
much  the  mastiff.  If  he  had,  there  was  little 
danger  of  his  doing  it ;  the  creature  whose  ancestry 
came  from  Mesopr.;tamia  being  able  to  take  care  of 
itself.  The  demonstrations  of  the  dog — an  over- 
fed, good-nati'.red  brute — looked  as  if  being  made 
either  for  bis  own  amusement  or  that  of  his 
young  mistress  ;  while  the  donkey,  on  the  defence, 
with  teeth^  and  heels,  seemed  equally  to  enjoy 
the  fun. 

The  elder  sister,  standing  apart,  had  neither  eye3 
nor  ears  for  this  bit  of  hoydenish  play.  If  a 
thought.  It  was  the  fear  of  giving  offence  to  the 
ass*s  owner,  should  that  individual  unluckily  come 
along.     As  no  one  came,  however,  she  left  Vaga  Xq 


40  NO  quarter! 

her  vagaries,    and    stood    intently  gazing    upon   the 
landscape  spread  before  her. 

A  far  and  varied  view  she  commanded  from 
that  elevated  spot.  First,  a  deep,  wide  valley 
below,  trending  away  to  the  right,  with  a  tiny 
stream  trickling  adown  it,  and  a  straggling  village, 
the  houses  standing  apart  along  its  banks — Dry- 
brook.  But  not  as  the  Drybrook  of  to-day, 
showing  tall  brick  chimneys — the  monoliths  of  our 
own  modern  time — with  their  plumes  of  grey 
black  smoke;  cinder-strewn  roads  running  from  one 
to  the  other,  and  patches  of  bare  pasture  between 
Then  it  was  embowered,  almost  buried,  in  trees  ; 
here  and  there  only  a  spot  of  whitewashed  walls 
or  a  quaint  lead  window,  seen  through  the  thick 
foliage.  Beyond  village  and  stream  rose  another 
ridge,  with  a  gradual  ascent  up  to  the  "  Wilder- 
ness "  ;  and  still  farther  off — so  far  as  to  be  just 
visible — stretched  a  wide  expanse  of  low-lying 
champaign  country,  the  valley  of  the  Severn,  once 
the  sound  of  a  sea.  As  the  young  girl  gazed 
upon  it,  the  sinking  sun  behind  her  back,  with  the 
Forest  highlands  beginning  to  fling  the  shadows  of 
twilight  across  the  Severn's  plain,  and  the  whit^ 
mist  that  overhung  it,  she  might  well  have 
imagined  the  waters  of  ocean  once  more  o'erflow- 
ing  their  ancient  bed. 

She  neither  imagined  this  nor  thought  of  it ;  in 
fact  saw  not  the  fog,  nor  gave  so  much  as  a 
second  glance  to  that  valley  she  had  professed 
herself  so  desirous  of  viewing.  Instead,  her  eyes 
were  fixedly  bent  upon  the  face  of  the  acclivity 
opposite — more  particularly  on  a  riband  of  road 
that  went  winding  up  through  woods  from  Dry- 
brook  to  the  ^'  Wilderness.*'  And  still  with  the 
same  look  of  earnest  interrogation.  What  CQuld 
it  mean? 


WAITING  AND  WATCHING.  4I 

Vaga  coming  up,  after  having  finished  her  affair 
with  the  donkey,  observed  the  look,  and  it  called 
forth  a  fresh  display  of  that  persiflage  she  so  de- 
lighted in.  Hitherto  Sabrina  had  the  best  of  it 
Her  turn  now,  and  she  took  advantage  of  it, 
saying,— 

"  Why,  sister  Sab,  you  seem  to  have  forgotten 
all  about  what  you  came  here  for !  YouVe  not 
looking  at  the  Severn  at  all !  Your  glances  are 
directed  too  low  for  it.  And  as  to  the  glorious 
sunset  you  spoke  of,  that's  going  on  behind  you  ! 
Something  on  the  road  over  yonder  seems  to  be 
the  attraction;  though  I  can  see  nothing  but  the. 
road  itself." 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Sabrina,  a  little  confused,  with  just 
the  slightest  spot  of  red  again  showing  on  her 
cheeks.  Enough,  though,  to  catch  the  eye  of  her 
suspicious  sister,  who  archly  observed, — 

**  Rather  strange,  your  gazing  so  earnestly  at  it, 
then  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes  ;    I  suppose  it  is." 

"But  not  if  you're  expecting  to  see  some  one 
upon  it." 

Sabrina  started,  the  red  on  her  cheeks  becoming 
more  pronounced  ;  but  she  said  nothing,  since  now 
her  secret  was  discovered,  or  on  the  eve  of  dis- 
covery. Vaga's  next  words  left  her  no  longer  in 
doubt. 

"  Who  IS  he,  sister  ? "  she  asked  with  a  sly  look^ 
and  a  laugh. 

"Who  is  who.?" 

"  He  you  expect  to  see  come  riding  down  yon- 
der road.      I  take  it  he'll  be  on  horseback  ?  * 

*'  Vaga !  you're  a  very  inquisitive  creature." 

"  Have  I  not  some  right,  after  being  dragged  all 
the  way  hither,  when  I  wanted  to  go  home?  If 
you  called  me  a  hungty  creature  'twould  be  nearer 


42  NO  QUARTER  I 

the  truth.  Jesting  apart,  I  am  that — quite  famished  ; 
so  weak  I  must  seek  support  from  a  tree." 

And  with  a  mock  stagger,  she  brought  up 
against  the  trunk  of  a  hawthorn  that  grew  near. 

Sabrina  could  not  resist  laughing  too,  though 
still  keeping  her  eyes  on  the  up-hill  road.  It 
seemed  as  though  she  could  not  take  her  eyes  off 
it.  But  the  other  quickly  recovering  strength,  and 
more  naturally  than  she  had  affected  feebleness, 
once  more  returned  to  the  attack,  saying, — 

"  Sister  mine ;  it's  no  use  you're  trying  to  hood- 
wink me.  You  forget  that  by  accident  I  saw  a 
letter  that  lately  came  to  Holiymead — at  least  its 
superscription.  Equally  oblivious  you  appear  to 
be,  that  the  handwriting  of  a  certain  gentleman  is 
quite  familiar  to  me,  having  seen  many  other  letters 
from  the  same  to  father.  So,  putting  that  and 
that  together,  Tve  not  the  slightest  doubt  that  the 
one  of  last  week,  addressed  to  your  sweet  self,  in- 
formed you  that  on  a  certain  day,  hour,  afternoon. 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn  would  enter  the  Forest  of 
Dean  by  the  Dry  brook  Road  on  his  way  to ** 

"  Vaga,  you're  a  very  demon  ! " 

"Which  means  I've  read  your  secret  aright  So 
you  may  as  well  make  confession  of  it." 

"I  won't;  and  just  to  punish  you  for  prying. 
Curiosity  ungratified  will  be  to  you  very  torture^ 
as  I  know." 

"Oh,  well!  keep  it  close;  it  don't  signify  a  bit. 
One  has  little  care  to  be  told  what  one  knows 
without  telling.  If  Sir  Richard  should  come  to 
Holiymead,  why  then  six  and  six  make  a  dozen, 
don't  they?" 

Sabrina  turned  a  half-reproachful  look  on  her 
tormentor,  but  without  making  reply. 

"  You  needn't  answer,"  the  other  went  on.  "  My 
arithmetic's    right,    and    the    problem's    solved,  or 


WAITING  AND  WATCHING.  43 

Will   be,  by   the   gentleman    spoken    of  making   his 

appearance  any  time  this  day,  or  Why,  bless 

me !     Yonder  he  is  now,  I   do  believe." 

The  exclamatory  phrase  had  reference  to  a 
horseman  seen  riding  down  the  road  so  narrowly 
watched  ;  though  the  speaker  was  not  the  first  to 
see  him.  He  had  been  already  sighted  by  Sabrina, 
and  it  was  the  flash  of  excitement  in  her  eyes  that 
guided  those  of  her  sister. 

The  horseman  had  not  all  the  road  to  himself; 
anofher  coming  on  behind,  but  at  such  short 
distance  as  to  tell  of  companionship — that  of  mas- 
ter and  servant.  He  ahead  was  undoubtedly  a 
gentleman,  as  evinced  by  the  bright  colour  of  his 
dress,  with  its  silken  gloss  under  the  sunlight,  and 
the  glitter  of  arms  and  accoutrements;  while  the 
more  soberly-attired  rider  in  the  rear  was  evidently 
a  groom  or  body  servant. 

As  the  girls  stood  regarding,  the  look  in  the 
eyes  of  the  elder,  at  first  satisfied  and  joyous, 
began  gradually  to  change.  The  distance  was  too 
great  for  the  identification  of  either  face  or  figure. 
All  that  could  be  distinguished  was  that  they  were 
men  on  horseback,  with  the  general  hue  of  their 
habiliments,  and  the  sparkle  of  arms  and  orna- 
ments. 

It  was  just  these — their  brightness  and  splendour 
— as  affected  the  foremost  of  the  two,  which  had 
brought  the  change  over  Sabrina's  countenance. 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn  was  not  wont  to  dress 
gaudily,  but  rather  the  reverse.  Still,  time  had 
elapsed  since  she  last  saw  him.  He  had  been 
abroad,  in  the  Low  Countries,  and  with  Gustavus 
of  Sweden,  battling  for  the  good  cause.  The 
foreign  fashions  may  have  changed  his  ideas  about 
dress  and  its  adornments.  But  little  cared  she  for 
that  so  long  as  his  heart  was  unchanged ;    and  that 


44  NO  QUARTER! 

it  was  so  she  knew  by  the  letter  which  had  be- 
trayed her   own  heart's  secret  to  her  sister. 

Almost  simultaneously  upon  Vaga's  features 
appeared  a  change  too — almost  expressing  doubt. 
It  became  certainty  on  the  instant  after,  still 
another  replacing  it,  as  she  again  exclaimed,  con- 
tradicting herself — 

"Bless  me,  no!     That's  Reginald  Trevor/* 


CHAPTER  VL 

^K  CAVALIER  IN   LOVE, 

Reginald  Trevor  it  was,  for  Vaga  was  not 
guessing.  Something  she  saw  about  the  horseman, 
or  his  horse,  had  enabled  her  to  identify  him  ;  as 
she  did  so,  that  third  and  latest  change  coming 
over  her  countenance,  giving  it  also  a  serious  cast. 

But  nothing  compared  with  that  which  now 
showed  on  the  face  of  her  sister.  The  varied  ex- 
pressions of  hopeful  anticipation,  surprise,  delight, 
then  doubt,  rapidly  succeeding  one  another,  were 
all  past,  and  in  their  place  a  dark  shadow  sat 
cloud-like  on  her  brow.  In  her  eyes,  too,  still 
scanning  the  distant  horseman,  was  a  look  that 
betokened  pain,  or  at  least  uneasiness,  with  some- 
thing of  fear  and  anger.  In  truth,  the  expression 
on  their  face,  though  differing  from  each  other, 
would  have  been  unreadable  to  any  one  who  was 
a  stranger  to  them  and  Reginald  Trevor. 

Some  knowledge  of  this  gentleman  and  his 
antecedents  will  throw  light  upon  the  grave  im- 
pression seemingly  produced  upon  the  two  girls 
by  the  sight  of  him. 

As  the  name  might  indicate,  he  was  kin  to  the 
young  courtier,  late  gentleman-usher  at  Whitehall 
— his  cousin.  Different,  however,  had  been  their 
lots  in  the  lottery  of  life  ;  those  of  Eustace  so  far 
having    all    come    out    prizes,   while  Reginald   bad 


46  NO  QUARTER  I 

been  drawing  blanks.  A  dissolute,  dissipated 
father  had  left  the  latter  nought  but  a  bad  name, 
and  the  son  had  little  bettered  it.  Still  was  he  a 
gallant  Cavalier,  as  the  word  went,  and  at  least 
possessed  the  redeeming  quality  of  courage.  He 
had  given  proofs  of  it  as  an  officer  in  that  army 
sent  northward  against  the  Scots,  where  he  had 
served  as  a  lieutenant  under  Lunsford.  Per  contrUy 
as  the  father  who  begot  him,  he  was  given  to 
dissipation,  a  drinker,  dicer,  wencher,  everything 
socially  disreputable  and  distasteful  to  the  Par- 
liamentarians,—  far  more  the  Puritans,  —  though 
neither  disgracing  or  lowering  himself  in  the  eyes 
of  his  own  party — the  Cavaliers.  If  latitudinarianism 
in  morals  could  be  accounted  Christian  charity, 
none  were  endowed  with  this  virtue  in  a  higher 
degree  than  they. 

Reginald  Trevor  had  the  full  benefit  of  their 
tolerance  in  that  respect :  passed  among  them  as 
a  rare  good  fellow  ;  no  harm  in  him,  save  what 
affected  himself.  To  use  a  common  phrase,  he  was 
his  own  worst  enemy.  Beginning  life  penniless,  he 
was  no  better  off  at  the  commencement  of  his 
military  career ;  and  his  spendthrift  habits  had 
kept  him  the  same  ever  since.  At  that  hour,  when 
seen  coming  down  the  road — save  his  sword,  horse, 
clothing,  and  equipments — he  could  not  call  any- 
thing his  own.  These,  however,  were  all  of  the 
best;,  for  he  was  a  military  dandy,  and,  despite 
poverty,  always  contrived  to  rig  himself  out  in 
grand  array.  Just  now  he  was  well  up  in  every- 
thing, though  possibly  nothing  had  been  paid  for 
-r-horse,  clothing,  nor  accoutrements.  But  he  had 
got  a  g«od  post,  which  enabled  him  to  get  good 
credit,  and  that  satisfied  him  all  the  same. 
Thrown  out  of  commission — as  Lunsford  and 
others  after  th^ir  return  from  the   North-— be  had 


A  CAVALIER   IN   LOVk  4^ 

lived  for  some  months  in  London  as  best  he 
could ;  often  at  his  wits'  end.  But  swords  were 
now  once  more  in  demand,  with  men  who  could 
wield  them  ;  and  Sir  John  Wintour,  who  had  com- 
menced fortifying  his  mansion  at  Lydney  to  hold 
it  for  the  King,  casting  about  for  the  right  sort  to 
defend  it,  chose  Reginald  Trevor  as  one  of  them. 

For  some  weeks  antecedent  to  the  time  of  his 
introduction  to  the  reader,  he  had  been  in  Sir 
John's  service  ;  acting  in  a  mixed  capacity,  military 
and  political,  with  some  duties  appertaining  to 
the  civil  branch  of  administration.  These  had 
taken  him  all  over  the  Forest  of  Dean,  introducing 
him  into  many  a  house  where  he  had  hitherto 
been  a  stranger.  But  of  all  honoured  by  his  visit, 
there  was  only  one  he  cared  ever  returning  to.  It 
he  could  revisit  again  and  again ;  had  done  so ; 
and  would  have  been  glad  to  stay  by  it  for  the 
rest  of  his  life.  A  lone  house,  too,  though  a 
mansion,  standing  remote  from  anything  that  could 
be  called  city,  or  even  town  ;  remote  from  other 
houses  of  its  class.  It  may  seem  strange  such  a 
solitary  habitation  should  have  attractions  for  a 
man  of  his  character ;  but  not  when  its  name  is 
given  —  for  it  was  Hollymead.  This  known,  it 
needs  no  telling  why  Reginald  Trevor  was  at- 
tracted thither  ;  only  to  specify  which  of  the  two 
girls  was  the  loadstone  that  drew  him.  Even  this 
may  be  guessed — not  likely  Sabrina,  but  very  likely 
Vaga.  And  Vaga  it  was.  He  had  fallen  in  love 
with  her,  passionately,  madly ;  and,  stranger  still, 
purely ;  for,  in  all  likelihood,  it  was  the  first  honest 
love  of  his  life.  Honest  it  was,  however ;  and 
honestly  he  had  been  acting  so  far  ;  his  courtship 
respectful,  and  free  from  the  bold  rude  advances 
which,  as  a  rule,  marked  the  conduct  of  the 
Cavaliers.      For,   despite  all   said   to  the   contrary, 


4^  No  quarter! 

their  behaviour  to  women  was  more  "gallantry** 
than  gallant,  and  anything  but  chivalrous. 

But,  although  behaving  his  best,  Reginald  Trevor 
had  not  prospered  in  his  suit  ;  on  the  contrary 
received  a  check  which  brought  it  to  an  abrupt 
ending  for  the  time,  and  it  might  be  for  ever. 
This  in  the  shape  of  a  hint  that  his  visits  to 
Hollymead  House  were  neither  welcome  nor  de- 
sirable, rather  the  reverse.  Not  given  him  by  the 
girl  herself — she  did  not  even  know  of  it, —  but 
conveyed  by  her  father  privately  and  quietly,  yet 
firmly.  Of  course  it  was  taken,  and  the  visits  dis- 
continued. 

That  was  but  a  fortnight  ago,  and  yet  Reginald 
Trevor  was  once  more  on  his  way  to  Hollymead ! 
But  very  different  the  cause  carrying  him  thither 
now  to  that  which  had  oft  taken  him  before ; 
different  his  feelings,  too,  though  not  as  regarded 
the  young  lady.  For  her  they  were  the  same^ — his 
passion  hot  as  ever.  And  yet  was  it  a  flame 
burning  blindly,  without  a  word  of  encouragement 
to  fan  or  keep  it  alive.  Never  once  had  she 
spoken  to  tell  him  his  love  was  reciprocated  ; 
never  given  him  smile  or  look  that  could  be  in- 
terpreted in  that  sense.  For  all  this,  he  so  inter- 
preted some  she  had  bestowed  on  him.  Successes, 
conquests  many,  had  made  him  vain,  and  he 
deemed  himself  irresistible — fancied  he  would  con- 
quer her,  too. 

Nevertheless,  he  felt  less  confident  now.  That 
rupture  of  relations  had  become  a  grievous  obstacle. 
Nor  was  he  on  the  way  to  Hollymead  with 
any  hope  of  being  able  to  bind  up  the  broken 
threads  ;  instead,  his  errand  thither  had  for  object 
that  which  was  sure  further  to  sever  them.  It  was 
not  of  his  own  seeking,  and  he  had  entered  upon 
it  with  reluctance. 


A  CAVALIER   IN   LOVE.  49 

Dark  and  gloomy  was  the  shadow  on  his  face  as 
he  rode  under  that  of  the  trees.  At  intervals  it 
became  a  scowl,  with  resentment  blazing  up  in 
his  eyes,  as  he  thought  of  that  dismissal,  so 
wounding  to  his  self-esteem,  so  insulting.  But  he 
was  armed  with  that  which  would  give  him  a 
revanche ;  make  the  master  of  Holly  mead  humble 
if  not  hospitable — a  document  such  as  ha- 
humbled  the  master  of  many  another  hcjuse,  an- 
gering them  at  the  same  time.  For  it  was  a  letter 
of  request  for  a  loan,  signed  and  stamped  "hx^Xi 
the  King's  seal. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  YOUNG  LADY  NOT  IN  LOVE, 

*  I  DO  believe  it'^  Reginald  Trevor." 

Sabrina  said  this  in  rejoinder,  now  certain  it  was 
not  the  man  she  had  climbed  that  hill  in  hopes 
of  meeting. 

"  Tm  sure  of  it,"  affirmed  Vaga,  in  confident  tone 
as  before.  "  If  I  couldn't  tell  him,  I  can  tl>e  horse — 
the  light  grey  he  always  rides.  And  that's  his  dress 
— the  colour  at  least.  I  don't  think  he  has  many 
changes,  exquisite  as  he  is,  or  we'd  have  seen  some 
of  them  at  Hollymead." 

She  made  this  remark  with  a  smile  of  peculiar 
significance. 

*'  Oh  !  yes  ;  'tis  he,"  assented  the  sister,  her  eyes 
still  upon  him.  "  I'm  sure  now,  myself.  The  horse 
— yes,  the  dress  too.  And,  see !  a  red  plume  in  his 
hat — that's  enough.  I  wonder  where  he's  bound  for 
— surely   not  Hollymead  !  " 

It  was  then  the  grave  look  already  alluded  to 
showed  itself  in  her  eyes.  "  Perhaps  you  can  tell, 
sister  ? "    she  added,  interrogatively. 

"  Sabrina  !  why  do  you  say  that  ?  How  should 
I  be  acquainted  with  Mr.  Trevor's  movements  or 
intentions — any  more  than    yourself.?" 

"Ha — ha!  What  an  artful  little  minx  you  are, 
Vag  !     A  very  mistress  of  deception  !  " 

"  You'll  make  me  angry,  S^b— Fra  half  that 
already." 


A  Young  lady  not  in  Lov^  Jt 

**  Without  cause,  then,  or  reason.** 

"  Every  reason." 

"  Name  one."  ^ 

"  That  you  should  suspect  me  of  having  a  secret 
and  keeping  it  from  you." 

"  Goodness  gracious  !  How  just  you  are  in  your 
reproaches — you,  who  but  this  very  moment  have 
been  accusing  me  of  that  selfsame  thing!  I,  all 
candour,  all  frankness  !  " 

Vaga  was  now  flung  back,  as  a  sailor  would  say, 
on  her  "  beam  ends."  For,  in  truth,  she  had  made 
herself  amenable  to  the  charge. 

"Oh!  you  innocent!"  cried  Sabrina,  pressing 
her  triumph.  "  Though  you  are  three  years  younger 
than  I,  you're  quite  as  old  about  some  things,  and 
this  is  one  of  them/' 

"This  what?" 

"  This  that ;  the  thing,  or  man,  if  he  may  be  so 
called,  we  see  riding  down  yonder  road." 

"  You  wrong  me,  sister  ;  I've  no  secret  concerning 
him.  I  never  cared  for  Rej  Trevor  in  the  way 
you  appear  to  be  hinting  at — not  three  straws." 

"  Are  you  serious  in  what  you  say,  Vag  ?  Tell 
me  the  truth  !  " 

There  was  an  earnestness  in  the  way  the  question 
was  put — tone,  air,  everything — that  bespoke  more 
than  a  common  interest  about  the  answer. 

It  came,  causing  disappointment,  with  some 
slight  vexation.  For  Vaga,  thinking  she  had  been 
badgered  long  enough,  and,  remembering,  moreover, 
how  very  reticent  the  other  had  just  shown  herself, 
determined  on  having  a  revanche.  It  was  altogether 
in  consonance  with  her  nature ;  though  she  had  no 
idea  of  advantage   beyond   that  of  mere   fun. 

**  Curiosity  on  the  rack ! "  she  triumphantly 
retorted.  *'  What  you've  just  been  dooming  me 
to !     How  does  it  feel,  sister  Sab !  " 


S^  NO  quarter! 

"  Sister  Sab  *'  made  no  response  ;  in  turn  being 
fairly  conquered  and  cornered.  But  her  silence  and 
submissive  look  were  more  eloquent  than  any 
appeal  she  could  have  made.  And,  responding  to 
them,   her  conqueror  relentingly  asked  : 

"Are  you  very,  very  desirous  of  knowing  how 
the  case  stands  between  myself  and  Master  Reginald 
Trevor?" 

"  I  am,  indeed.  And  when  youVe  told  me,  Til 
give  you  the  reason." 

"On  that  condition  FU  tell  you.  He  is  nothing 
to  me  more  than  any  other  man.  And  when  I 
add  that  no  other  man  is  anything  either,  you'll 
understand  me." 

**  But,  sister  dear,  do  you  mean  to  say  you 
love  no  one  ?  " 

"  I  mean  to  say  that — flat" 

"And  never  have  1 " 

*•  That's  a  queer  question  to  be  asked  ;  above  all 
by  you,  you  who  so  often  preach  the  virtue  of 
constancy,  crying  it  into  my  ears  !  If  I  ever  had 
loved  man,  I  think  I  should  love  him  still. 
But  as  it  chances,  I  don't  quite  comprehend  what 
the  sensation  is  ;  never  having  experienced  it.  And 
more,  I  don't  wish  to  ;  that  is,  if  it  were  to  affect 
me  as  it  seems  to  do  you." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Vaga  ? "  asked  the  more 
sage  sister,  bristling  up  at  the  innuendo.  "  Love 
affect  me  !  You're  only  fancying  !  Nothing  of  the 
sort,  I  assure  you." 

"  Oh !  yes ;  much  of  the  sort ;  though  you  might 
not  yourself  perceive  it.  Everybody  else  does,  at 
least  I  do — have  for  a  very  long  time — ever  since 
he  went  off  to  the  wars." 

"What  he?" 

"  Again  counterfeiting.  And  vainly.  Well,  I 
won't   gratify   you    by   giving    his   name   this   time. 


A  YOUNG  LADY  NOT  IN  LOVE.        53 

Enough  to  say  that  ever  since  you  last  saw  him 
you  haven't  been  like  you  used  to  be.  Why,  Sab, 
I  can  remember  when  you  were  as  full  of  frolic 
as  myself,  or  Hector  here.  Yet,  for  the  last  two 
years  youVe  been  as  melancholy  as  a  love-sick 
monkey.  True,  there's  been  a  little  brightening  up 
in  you  of  late — no  doubt  due  to  that  letter.  Ha — 
ha— ha  1 " 

Sabrina  laughed  too,  despite  the  unmerciful  way 
she  was  being  bantered.  The  allusion  to  "that 
letter"  was  not  unpleasant.  Its  contents,  very 
gratifying,  had  restored  her  heart's  gladness  and 
confidence.  Not  that  she  had  ever  doubted  Her 
lover's  fealty,  but  only  had  fears  for  his  life.  She 
said  nothing,  however,  leaving  the  other  to  rattle 
on. 

"And  now.  Miss  Prim-and-Prudery,  I  want  your 
reason  for  prying  into  my  secrets,  after  being  so 
chary  of  your  own  ;  I   demand   it." 

"Dear  Vagal  you  shall  have  it  and  welcome. 
After  what  you  say,  there  need  be  no  shyness  in 
my  telling  you  now.  I  was  anxious  about  you  on 
father's  account,  and  my  own,  too,  as  your  sister." 

"Anxious  about  me!     For  what.'^" 

"Your  relations  with  yonder  individual." 

She  nodded  towards  the  horseman  with  the  red 
feather  in  his  hat. 

**  Very  good  of  father  and  you  to  be  so  concerned 
about  me ;  but  don't  you  think  I  can  take  care 
of  myself?     I'm  getting  old   enough  to  do  that" 

She  was  only  a  little  over  seventeen,  but  believed 
herself  quite  as  much  a  woman  as  Sabrina,  who 
was  three  years  her  senior.  She  had  the  proud, 
independent  spirit  of  one,  and  brooked  no  control 
by  her  older  sister  ;  on  the  contrary,  rather  exercised 
it  herself.  She  was  her  father's  favourite;  a  cir- 
cumstance   that    would    appear     strange    to    those 


54  NO  QUARTER  1 

acquainted  with  his  character.  Hence,  in  part,  hef 
assumption  of  superiority. 

"  Of  course  you  can,"  returned  Sabrina,  assent- 
ingly.     "  And   Vm  glad   of  it/'  ' 

"I  suppose,  then,  it's  owing  to  your  and  father's 
united  solicitude  on  my  behalf  that  Master  Rej 
Trevor  hasn't  shown  his  face  at  Hollymead  for 
the  last  couple  of  weeks." 

"  I've  had  nothing  to  do  with  it,  Vaga." 

"Which  seems  to  say  that  somebody  has,  then. 
I  suspected  as  much,  by  your  having  said  nothing 
about  it.  As  you  seem  to  know  something.  Sab, 
you   may  as  well  tell  it  me." 

"  I  will — all  I  know.  Which  is,  that  father  has 
forbidden  his  visits  to  Hollymead.  I  only  learnt 
it  from  our  maid  Gwenthian.  It  appears,  that  the 
last  time  Mr.  Trevor  was  at  the  house,  she  overheard 
a  conversation  between  father  and  him ;  father 
telling  him  as  much  as  that  he  would  be  no  more 
welcome  there." 

"  And  what  answer  did  the  fine  gentleman  make  ? 
I  suppose  the  eavesdropping  Gwenthian  heard  that, 
too." 

There  was  such  evident  absence  of  all  emotion 
on  the  part  of  her  who  interrogated,  she  could  not 
well  be  making  believe.  The  other,  seeing  she  was 
not,  responded  with  confidence, — 

"  Nothing,  or  nothing  much,  except  in  mutter- 
ings,  which  the  girl  failed  to  catch  the  meaning  of. 
But  the  nature  may  be  imagined  from  the  way  he 
went  off— all  scowling  and   angry,  she  says." 

"Gwenthian  has  never  mentioned  the  circum- 
stance to  me ;  which  I  take  it  is  a  little  strange 
on  her  part." 

She  thought  it  so,  for  of  the  two  she  was  more 
a  favourite  with  the  waiting  maid  than  her  sister, 
and  knew  it     Between  her  and  Gwenthian — a  Forest 


A  YOUNG   LADY   NOT  IN   LOVE.  55 

girl  of  quick  wit  and  subtle  intelligence — many 
confidences  had  been  exchanged.  Therefore  her 
wonder  at   this  having  been  withheld. 

"Not  at  all,"  rejoined  Sabrina,  entering  upon  a 
defence  of  Gwenthian's  reticence.  "There  was 
nothing  strange  in  her  keeping  it  from  you.  She 
supposed  it  might  vex  you — told   me  so." 

*^  Ha— ha— ha  !  How  thoughtful  of  her !  But  it 
don't  vex  me — luckily,  no — not  the  least  bit ;  and 
Gwenthian  should  have  known  that,  as  you  know 
now,  Sab.     Don't  you  ? " 

"I  do,"  answered  Sabrina,  in  full  conviction.  For 
Vaga's  laugh  was  so  utterly  devoid  of  all  regret 
at  what  had  been  revealed  to  her,  no  one  could 
suppose  or  suspect  there  was  within  her  breast  a 
thought  of  Reginald  Trevor,  beyond  looking  on  him 
in  the  light  of  a  mere  acquaintance.  To  prove 
this  it  needed  neither  her  rejoinder,  nor  the  emphasis 
she  gave  it,  saying, — 

"  /  don' I  care  that  for  him  !  "  the  that  being  a  snap 
of  her  fingers. 

"  I  wish  father  had  but  known  you  didnV 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  it  might  have  saved  him  the  scene 
Gwenthian  was  witness  to ;  and  which  must  have 
been  rather  painful  to  both.  After  all,  it  may  have 
been  for  the  best.  But,  worst  or  best,  I  wonder 
where  Master  Trevor  is  making  for  now?  It  can't 
be  HoUymead." 

"  Not  likely,  after  what  youVe  told  me.  But  we 
shall  soon  see — at  least  whether  he  be  coming  up 
this  way." 

Both  were  familiar  with  the  Forest  roads — had 
ridden  if  not  walked  them  all — knew  their  every 
turning  and  crossing.  Where  that  from  Mitchel- 
dean  descended  into  the  Drybrook  valley  it  forked 
right  and    left  at  the  ford  of  the  little  stream  where 


§6  No  quarter! 

now  there  is  a  bridge  known  as  the  "  Nail."  Left 
lay  the  road  to  Coleford.  right,  another  leading 
back  out  of  the  Forest  by  the  Lea  Bailey.  And 
between  these  two  branchings  a  third  serpentined 
up  the  slope  for  Ruardean,  over  the  ridge  on 
which  they  stood. 

While  they  were  still  regarding  the  horseman  on 
the  grey,  and  his  groom  behind,  two  other  horse- 
men came  in  sight,  riding  side  by  side  on  the  same 
slope,  just  commencing  its  descent.  Again  Sab- 
rina's  eyes  flashed  up  with  delight — that  must  be 
her  expected   one — riding  alongside  his  servant. 

While  indulging  in  this  pleasant  conjecture,  she 
was  surprised  at  seeing  still  another  pair  of  mounted 
men,  filing  out  from  under  the  trees,  side  by  side 
also,  and  following  the  first  two  at  that  distance 
and  with  the  air  which  seemed  to  proclaim  them 
servitors. 

"It  may  not  be  he,  after  all !  "  she  reflected  within 
herself,  her  brow  again  shadowing  over.  "  He  said 
he  would  be  alone  with  only  Hubert,  and " 

Her  reflections  were  brought  to  an  abrupt 
termination  by  seeing  the  grey  horse,  after  plunging 
across  the  stream,  turn  head  up  hill  in  the  direc- 
tion of  Ruardean. 

There  was  no  time  to  make  further  scrutiny  of 
the  quartette  descending  the  opposite  slope.  In 
twenty  minutes,  or  less  if  he  meant  speed,  he  on 
the  grey  would  be  up  to  them  ;  and  if  Reginald 
Trevor,  that  would  be  awkward,  whether  on  his 
way  to  Hollymead  or  not. 

It  was  Sabrina  who  now  counselled  hastening 
home ;  which  they  did  with  a  quick  free  step 
their  country  training  and  Forest  practice  bad 
made  easy,  as  familiar,  to  theoL 


.  CHAPTER  Vin. 

A  »OUSE  IN   TUDOR  STYLE. 

It  would  be  difficult  to  imagine  a  more  enchanting 
spot  for  a  dwelling-place  than  that  where  stood 
Hollymead  House.  Near  the  north-western  angle 
of  the  Forest  of  Dean,  it  commanded  a  view  of 
the  Wye  where  this  beautiful  stream,  after  meander- 
ing through  the  verdant  meads  of  Herefordshire, 
over  old  red  sandstone,  assaults  the  carboniferous 
rocks  of  Monmouth,  whose  bold,  high  ridges,  lying 
transversely  to  its  course,  look  as  if  no  power  of 
water  could  ever  have  cut  through  them.  But  the 
Wye  has,  in  its  flow  of  countless  ages,  carved  out 
— in  Spanish-American  phrase  cafloned — a  channel 
with  banks  here  and  there  rising  nigh  a  thousand 
feet  above  the  level  of  its  bed.  Between  these  it 
glides  with  swift  current;  not  direct,  but  in  snake- 
like contortions,  fantastically  doubling  back  upon 
itself,  almost  to  touching.  Here  and  there  cliffs 
rise  sheer  up  from  the  water's  edge,  grand  mural 
escarpments  of  the  mountain  limestone,  such  as 
show  the  "tors"  and  dales  of  Derbyshire.  The 
Codwell  rocks  below  Lydbrook,  forming  the  base 
of  the  famed  "  Symonds'  Yat,"  are  of  this  char- 
acter, their  grim  facades  seamed  and  broken  into 
separate  battlements,  giving  them  resemblance  to 
ruined  castles,  but  such  as  could  have  been  in- 
habited only  "  in  those  days  when  there  were 
giants  on  the  earth," 

S7 


5&  NO  quarter! 

•The  view  from  Hollymead  House — better  still 
from  a  high  hill  or  "tump"  above  it — took  in  the 
valley  of  the  river  where  it  enters  the  carboniferous 
strata  near  Kerne  bridge.  There  was  no  Kerne 
bridge  then ;  the  stream  being  crossed  by  ford 
and  ferry,  a  mile  further  up.  Looking  in 
that  direction,  in  the  foreground  was  Coppet- 
wood  Hill,  an  oblong  eminence  embraced  by  one 
of  the  great  sinuosities  of  the  river,  more  than 
six  miles  in  the  round  and  less  than  one  across 
the  neck  or  isthmus.  At  this  neck,  perched  on  a 
spur  of  the  hill  o'erhanging  the  stream,  stood  a 
vast  pile  of  building,  the  castle  of  Goodrich, 
on  whose  donjon  floated  a  flag  long  ere  Norman 
baron  set  foot  on  the  soil  of  England.  For  there 
the  Saxon  Duke  Godric  lorded  it  over  his  churls 
and  swineherds ;  his  iron  rule  at  the  Conquest 
replaced  by  that  of  the  Marshalls,  and  later  the 
Talbots,  alike  stern  and  severe. 

Looking  beyond,  and  north-westward,  a  wide 
stretch  of  country  came  under  the  eye,  thickly 
wooded  and  undulating,  the  ancient  kingdom  of 
Erchyn — now  called  Archenfield — backed  in  the 
far  distance  by  a  horizon  of  hills,  many  with  a 
mountain  aspect,  and  some  real  mountains,  as  the 
curious  Saddlebow,  with  a  depression  or  *'  col " 
between  its  twin  summits ;  Garway,  the  Cerrig- 
galch,  and  the  long  dark  range  of  the  Hatterals. 

To  the  west  was  a  very  conglomeration  of  moun- 
tains, seemingly  crowded  against  one  another,  yet  all 
apart,  each  distinguishable  by  an  outline  and  aspect 
of  its  own.  Most  conspicuous  of  these,  the  conical 
Sugarloaf,  the  two  Skyrrids — one  of  them  named 
Holy  Mountain  —  and  the  Blorenge,  all  towering 
above  the  town  of  Abergavenny,  which  is  surrounded 
and  embraced  by  them  as  the  arena  of  an  amphi- 
theatre by  its  outer  and  more  elevated  circle. 


A  HOUSE  IN   TUDOR   STYLE.  59 

Sweeping  round  the  sky  line,  north  and  north- 
east the  eye  was  met  by  many  a  bold  projection, 
as  the  Longmynds  and  Clee  hills,  with  their  blue 
basalt,  and  the  Haugh  wood,  summit  of  the  famed 
Silurian  upcast  of  Woolhope.  Farther  on  to  the 
east  the  Malvern  Beacons  of  true  mountain  aspect, 
remarkable  from  their  isolation,  but  still  more  in 
that  there  the  geologist  can  see  rocks  the  earliest 
stratified  on  earth,  some  metamorphosed,  and  all 
trace  of  stratification  destroyed ;  while  there,  too, 
are  visible  the  rocks  of  igneous  agency,  upheaved 
both  by  plutonic  and  volcanic  forces — the  gneisses, 
basalts,  syenites,  and  granites. 

Eastward  over  the  Forest  edge  could  be  seen, 
extending  far  as  vision's  verge,  the  wide  plains  of 
Worcester  and  Gloucester — as  said,  an  ancient  sea 
bed — through  which  now  flows  the  yellow  Severn  ; 
and  on  a  clear  day  bends  and  reaches  of  this 
grand  river  might  be  distinguished  glistening, 
gold-like,  in  the  sun  ;  the  level  expanse  of  its 
valley  diversified  by  several  isolated  and  curious 
eminences — hills  and  ridges — as  May  and  Breddon 
due  east,  and,  more  to  the  south,  the  Mendips 
and  Cotswolds. 

Alone  looking  southward  from  Hollymead  no 
mountains  met  the  eye  ;  in  that  direction  only 
the  undulations  of  the  Forest  itself,  clad  in  its 
livery  of  green — all  trees.  But  immediately  in 
front  of  the  house,  and  sloping  gently  away  from 
it,  was  a  wide  and  long  stretch  of  park-like  pasture 
land,  where  the  trees  stood  solitary  or  in  clumps, 
a  double  row  of  grand  oaks  bisecting  it  centrally, 
guarding  and  shading  the  avenue  which  led  to 
the  public  road  outside.  This  passed  from  Ruar- 
dean  out  of  the  forest  by  a  steep  descent  down 
to  Walford,  thence  on  to  Ross. 

Architecturally,  Hollymead  House  was  a  singular 


6o  NO  quarter! 

structure.  For  it  was  in  the  early  Tudor  style, 
built  when  bricks  were  a  scarce  and  dear  commo- 
dity, and  timber,  in  the  inverse  ratio,  plentiful 
and  cheap.  The  walls  were  a  framework  of 
hewn  oak — uprights,  cross-beams,  and  diagonal  ties 
— due  to  the  handiwork  of  the  carpenter,  only 
the  spaces  between  showing  the  skill  of  the  mason. 
And,  as  if  to  keep  ever  in  record  the  fact  of  this 
double  yet  distinct  workmanship,  the  painter  and 
whitewasher  had  been  now  and  then  called  upon 
to  perpetuate  it  by  giving  separate  and  severely 
contrasting  colours  to  what  was  timber  and  the 
interspacing  material  of  mortar  and  brick.  The 
result  a  striped  and  chequered  aspect  of  the  oddest 
and  quaintest  kind.  Sir  Richard  might  have  had 
it  in  his  mind  when  he  made  the  figurative  allusion 
to  a  cage  and  pair  of  pretty  birds.  Still  it  was 
not  exactly  cage-shaped,  but  more  like  several  set 
together,  some  smaller  ones  stuck  against  or  hang- 
ing from  a  large  one  that  stood  central ;  the 
congeries  due  to  a  variety  of  wings,  projecting 
windows,  dormers,  and  other  outworks. 

Equally  odd  and  irregular  the  arrangement 
inside.  An  entrance-hall  with  a  wide  stairway 
carried  up  around  it,  the  oak  balusters  very  beams, 
with  a  profusion  of  carving  on  them  ;  on  each 
landing,  corridors  dimly  lighted  leading  off  to 
rooms  no  two  on  the  same  level ;  some  of  them 
bed-chambers,  only  to  be  got  at  by  passing  through 
other  sleeping  apartments  interposed  between. 
And,  turn  which  way  one  would,  along  passages, 
or  from  room  to  room,  short  flights  of  stairs,  or 
it  might  be  but  a  step  or  two,  were  encountered 
everywhere,  to  the  imminent  risk  of  leg  or  neck- 
breaking. 

Though  such  a  structui:e  may  appear  strange  to 
the  modern   eye,  it  did   not  so  then,   for  there  was 


A  HOUSE  IN   tUDOR  STYLE.  6l 

nothing  uncommon  in  it.  Hollymead  House  was 
but  one  of  many  like  mansions  of  the  day,  though 
one  of  the  largest  and  most  imposing.  Nor  are 
they  all  gone  yet.  Scores  of  such  still  stand 
throughout  the  shires  of  the  marches,  and  in 
perfect  repair,  to  commemorate  the  architectural 
skill,  or  rather  the  absence  of  it,  which  distinguished 
our  ancestry  in  the  Tudor  times. 

The  owner  of  Hollymead,  Ambrose  Powell,  was 
a  man  of  peculiar  tastes  and  idiosyncrasies,  some 
evidence  of  which  appears  in  the  baptismal  names 
he  had  bestowed  upon  his  daughters.  A  fancy, 
having  its  origin  in  the  fact  that  from  a  hill  above 
the  house  could  be  seen  the  two  great  western 
rivers.  Wye  and  Severn— poetically,  Va^a  and 
Sabrina — themselves  in  a  sense  sisters,  nurslings 
from  the  same  breast  of  far  Plinlimmon.  From 
the  summit  of  that  **tump"  his  elder  daughter 
had  looked  on  her  name-mother  at  a  later  date 
than  she  made  pretence  of  when  urging  the  younger 
up  the  ridge  between  Ruardean  and  Drybrook.  It 
was  a  wild,  witching  spot,  the  grey  rocks  of  moun- 
tain limestone  here  and  there  peeping  out  from 
a  low  growth  of  hazel,  hawthorn,  yew,  and  holly. 
But  the  summit  itself  was  bare,  affording  on  all 
sides  a  varied  and  matchless  panorama  of  land- 
scape. Being  within  the  boundaries  of  their  own 
domain,  Sabrina  oft  climbed  up  to  it ;  not  for  the 
view's  sake  alone,  but  because  it  was  to  her  hal- 
lowed ground,  sacred  as  the  place  where  she  had 
made  surrender  of  her  young  heart,  when  she  told 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn  it  was  his.  There  was  a 
pretty  little  summer  house,  with  seats,  and  many 
an  hour  Ambrose  Powell  himself  spent  there,  in 
the  study  of  books  and  the  contemplation  of 
Nature— his  delight.  Not  in  a  mere  meditative 
way,  or  as  an  idle  dreamer ;  but  an  active  observer 


6^  No  QUARTER  1 

of  its  workings  and  searcher  after  its  secrets. 
Nor  did  he  confine  himself  to  this,  but  also  took 
an  interest  in  the  affairs  of  man,  so  strong  as  to 
have  studied  them  in  every  aspect — probed  the 
social  and  political  problems  of  human  existence 
to  their  deepest  depths.  Which  had  conducted 
him  to  a  belief — a  full,  firm  conviction — in  the 
superiority  of  republican  institutions  ;  as  it  must 
all  whose  minds  are  as  God  made  or  intended 
them,  and  not  perverted  by  prejudice  or  corrupted 
by  false  teachings.  He  was,  in  point  of  fact,  a 
Puritan,  though  not  of  the  extreme  stern  sort  ;  in 
his  ways  of  thinking  rather  as  Hampden  and  Sir 
Harry  Vane,  or  with  still  closer  similitude  to  a 
people  then  scorned  and  persecuted  beyond  all 
others — the  *'  Friends.'*  It  is  difficult  in  these 
modern  days,  under  the  light  of  superior  know- 
ledge, and  a  supposed  better  discrimination  between 
right  and  wrong,  to  comprehend  the  cruelties,  ay 
barbarous  atrocities,  to  which  were  submitted  the 
"  Friends,'*  or,  as  commonly  called,  "  Quakers."  A 
people  who,  despite  their  paucity  of  numbers,  did 
then,  and  since  then  have  done  and  been  doing, 
more  to  ennoble  the  national  character  of  England 
than  all  the  apostles  of  her  Episcopacy,  with  her 
political  boasters  and  military  braggarts  to  boot 
If  neither  the  most  notorious  nor  glorious,  no 
names  in  England's  history  can  compare  in  good- 
ness and  gracefulness  with  the  Penns  of  1640  and 
the  Brights  of  1880. 

Though  not  a  professed  "  Friend,"  Ambrose 
Powell  was  a  believer  in  their  faith  and  doctrines  ; 
and  in  his  daily  walk  and  life  acted  very  much 
in  accordance  with  them.  But  not  altogether. 
From  one  of  their  ideas  he  dissented — that  of 
non-resistance.  Of  a  proud,  independent  spirit, 
despite   his   gentle   inclinings,   he   would    brook    no 


A  HOUSE  IN   TUDOR  STYLE.  63 

bullying ;  the  last  man  to  have  one  cheek  smitten 
and  meekly  turn  the  other  to  the  smiter.  Instead, 
he  would  strike  back.  A  scene  we  are  now  called 
upon  to  record,  and  which  occurred  on  that  same 
evening,  gives  appropriate  illustration  of  this  phase 
oi  his  character. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A    RIGHT    ROYAL    EPISTLE. 

The  girls  had  got  home,  hard  breathing,  panting, 
from  the  haste  they  had  made.  But  though  supper 
was  announced  as  set,  they  did  not  think  of  sitting 
down  to  it,  but  instead,  entered  the  withdrawing- 
room,  a  large  apartment,  with  windows  facing  front. 
In  the  bay  of  one  of  these,  their  dresses  unchanged 
and  their  hoods  still  on,  they  took  stand,  with  eyes 
bent  down  the  avenue,  all  visible  from  the  window. 
At  intervals  along  the  road  they  had  heard  behind 
them  the  trampling  of  hoofs,  and  knew  from  what 
horses  it  proceeded.  The  sounds,  at  first  faint  and 
distant,  had  grown  more  distinct  as  they  reached 
the  park  gate,  and  they  had  come  up  the  avenue 
with  a  run,  to  the  surprise  and  somewhat  alarm 
of  their  father,  who  at  the  time  was  outside 
awaiting  their  return. 

Already  in  wonder  at  their  being  so  late,  he 
would  have  inquired  into  the  cause.  But  they 
anticipated  him  by  at  once  telling  him  where  they 
had  been,  what  seen,  and  who,  as  they  supposed, 
was  advancing  along  the   Ruardean  road. 

This  last  bit  of  intelligence  seemed  greatly  to 
excite  him  ;  and  while  his  daughters  watched 
from  the  window,  he  himself  was  also  keeping  vigil 
in  the  porch  outside.  After  hearing  what  they 
had  to  say,  he  had  remained  there,  letting  them 
pass  in. 


A  RIGHT  ROYAL  EPISTLE.  65 

For  a  time  the  gaze  of  all  was  fixed  on  the 
park  entrance,  at  the  lower  end  of  the  long  avenue, 
where  a  massive  oak  gate  traversed  between  two 
piers  of  mason-work,  old  and  ivy-mantled.  Only 
for  a  short  while  were  they  kept  in  suspense.  The 
flurried  girls  had  barely  got  back  their  breath 
when  a  grey  horse  was  seen,  with  head  jam  up 
against  the  gate,  his  rider  bending  down  in  the 
saddle  to  undo  its  fastenings. 

In  an  instant  after  it  was  pushed  open,  and  they 
saw  Reginald  Trevor  come  riding  on  towards  the 
house,  for  they  were  now  sure  of  its  being  he.  He 
was  yet  at  too  great  a  distance  for  them  to  read 
the  expression  upon  his  face  ;  but  one  near  enough 
might  have  noted  it  as  strange,  without  being  able 
to  interpret  it.  All  the  more  because  of  its  seem- 
ing to  undergo  constant  and  sudden  changes ; 
now  as  one  advancing  reluctantly  to  the  per- 
formance of  some  disagreeable  duty,  wavering 
and  seeming  half-inclined  to  back  out  of  it ;  anon, 
with  resolution  restored  through  some  opposing 
impulse,  as  anger,  this  shown  by  the  fire  flashing 
in  his  eyes. 

Never  had  he  ridden  up  that  avenue  swayed  by 
such  feelings,  or  under  the  excitement  of  emotions 
so  varied  or  vivid.  Those  he  had  hitherto  felt 
while  approaching  Hollymead  House  were  of  a 
different  nature.  Confident  always,  or,  if  doubting, 
not  enough  to  give  him  any  great  uneasiness. 
Vaga  Powell  resist  him !  She,  a  green  country 
girl  ;  he,  a  skilled,  practised  Lothario,  conqueror 
in  many  a  love  combat !  He  could  not  think  of 
failure.  Nor  would  he  have  thought  of  it  yet,  be- 
lieving the  sole  obstruction  to  his  suit  lay  in  the 
father.  But  now  he  had  to  face  that  father  in  a 
way  likely  to  make  his  hostility  more  determined 
— turn  it  into  very  hate,  if  it  was  not  so  already. 

F 


66  NO  QUARTER  1 

In  truth,  a  rS/e  of  a  very  disagreeable  kind  was 
Reginald  Trevor  called  upon  to  play ;  and  more 
than  once  since  entering  on  it  he  had  felt  like 
cursing  Sir  John  Wintour  in  his  heart — the  King 
as  well 

As  he  drew  near  to  the  house,  and  saw  the  two 
fair  faces  in  the  window — a  little  surprised  seeing 
hoods  over  their  heads  at  that  hour — he  more  than 
ever  realized  the  awkwardness  of  his  errand.  And, 
possibly,  if  at  that  last  moment  Vaga  Powell  had 
come  forth,  as  oft  before,  to  give  him  greeting,  or 
even  bestowed  a  smile  from  where  she  stood,  he 
would  have  risked  all,  forgiven  the  insult  he  had 
received,   and  left  his  duty  undone. 

But  no  smile  showed  upon  the  girl's  face,  no 
glance  gave  him  welcome  ;  instead,  he  saw  some- 
thing like  a  frown,  as  never  before.  Only  with  a 
glimpse  of  that  face  was  he  favoured  ;  Vaga,  as 
he  drew  up  in  front,  turning  her  back  on  him, 
and  retiring  into  the  shadowed  obscurity  of  the 
room,  whither  her  sister  had  preceded  her. 

It  may  have  been  only  a  seeming  rudeness  on 
their  part,  and  unintentional.  Whether  or  no,  it 
once  more  roused  his  resentment  against  their 
father;  who,  still  in  the  porch,  received  him  with 
a  countenance  stern,  as  his  own  was  vexed  and 
angry. 

There  was  a  short  interval  of  silence  after  the 
unexpected  visitor  had  drawn  up,  still  keeping  to 
his  saddle.  He  could  not  well  dismount  without 
receiving  invitation  ;  and  that  was  not  extended  to 
him,  much  less  word  of  welcome.  Moreover  his 
presence  there,  after  what  had  passed,  not  only 
called  for  explanation,  but  by  all  the  rules  of 
politeness  required  his  giving  it  before  aught  else 
should  be  said. 

He  did   not,  however ;  seeming  embarrassed,  and 


A  RIGHT   ROYAL   EPISTLB.  6/ 

leaving  the  master  of  Hollymead  no  choice  but  to 
take  the  initiative.  Which  the  latter  at  length  did, 
saying  sourly,  and  somewhat  satirically — 

"  What  may  you  be  wanting  with  me,  Mr.  Reginald 
Trevor?     I  take  it  your  business  is  with  me!' 

**With  you  it  is,"  brusquely  returned  the  other, 
still  further  nettled  at  the  way  he  was  addressed. 

**  Have  the  goodness  then  to  tell  me  what  it  is 
I  suppose  it's  something  that  caR  be  settled  by 
you  in  the  saddle.  If  not,  you  may  alight  and 
come  indoors." 

Speech  aggravating,  terribly  insulting,  as 
Ambrose  Powell  intended  it  should  be.  He  had 
long  ago  taken  the  measure  of  the  man,  and 
^wished  to  drive  him  to  a  distance,  even  further 
off  than  he  had  alr^eady  done.  His  last  words 
were  enough,  without  the  contemptuous  look  that 
accompanied  them.  But,  stung  by  both,  the  emis 
sary  of  Sir  John  Wintour  stood  proudly  up  in  his 
stirrups,  as  he  replied,  with  a  touch  of  satire  too, — 

"  No  need,  sir,  to  enter  your  very  hospitable 
house,  or  even  get  off  my  horse's  back.  My 
errand  can  be  accomplished  by  delivering  this  at 
your  door.  But,  as  you  chance  to  be  in  it,  permit 
me  to  hand  it  direct  to  you." 

While  speaking  he  had  drawn  from  under  the 
breast  of  his  doublet  a  folded  sheet,  a  letter,  on 
which  was  a  large  disc  of  red  wax,  stamped  with 
the  King's  seal. 

The  master  of  Hollymead  was  not  so  impolite 
as  to  refuse  taking  the  letter  from  his  hands  ;  and, 
as  soon  as  in  his  own,  he  tore  it  open  and  read,— 

"For  Ambrose  Powell,  Gent^. 

**Trustie    -and     well-beloved.     Wee     greete  you 

well.      Having     obserued     in     the     Presidents  and 

custome  of  former  times  (hat  all   the  Kings  and 


68  NO  QUARTER  I 

Queenes  of  the  Realme,  vpon  extraordinary  oc- 
casions, haue  vsed  either  to  resort  to  those  Con- 
tributions, which  arise  from  one  generalitie  of 
Subiects,  or  to  the  priuate  helpes  of  some  well 
affected  in  particular,  by  way  of  loane  :  In  which 
latter  course  Wee  being  at  this  time  inforced  to 
proceed,  for  supply  of  some  portions  of  Treasure  for 
diuers  publique  seruices,  and  particularly  for  con- 
tinuing and  increasing  our  magazins  in  some  large 
proportion  in  our  Realme  of  Ireland,  in  our  Nauie, 
and  in  our  ffortes :  in  all  which  greater  summes 
have  been  expended  of  late,  both  in  building  and 
repairing,  and  in  making  sundry  prousions,  than 
haue  bene  in  twentie  yeares  before :  We  haue  now 
in  Our  Eye  an  especiall  care,  that  such  discretion 
may  be  obserued  in  the  choise  of  the  lenders,  and 
such  an  indifferent  distribution,  as  the  summes 
that  Wee  shall  receiue  may  be  raised  with  an 
equall  Consideration  of  men*s  abilities  :  And  there- 
fore, seeing  men  haue  had  so  good  experience  of 
Our  repayment  of  all  those  summes  which  we  haue 
euer  required  in  this  kinde.  We  doubt  not  but  Wee 
shall  now  receiue  the  like  Argument  of  good 
affection  from  you  (amongst  other  of  Our  Sub- 
iects), and  that  with  such  alacrity  and  readiness  as 
may  make  the  same  so  much  the  more  acceptable, 
especially  seeing  Wee  require  but  that  of  some 
which  few  men  would  deny  a  friend,  and  haue  a 
minde  resolued  to  expose  all  our  earthly  fortune 
for  the  preseruation  of  the  generall.  The  summe 
that  Wee  require  of  you  by  vertue  of  these  pre- 
sents is  three  thousand  Pounds,  Which  we  do 
promise  in  the  name  of  Us,  our  heires  and  suc- 
cessors, to  repay  to  you  or  your  Assignes  within 
eighteene  monethes  after  the  payment  thereof  vnto 
the  Commissioner.  The  person  that  we  have  ap- 
pointed  to   receiue   it   is   our    worthy    servant,   Sif 


A  RIGHT  ROYAL  EPISTLE.  69 

Jno.  WIntour,  To  whose  hands  wee  do  require  you 
to  send  it  within  twelue  days  after  you  have  re- 
ceiued  this  Priuy  Scale,  which,  together  with  the 
Commissioner's  acquittance,  shall  be  sufficient 
Warrant  unto  the  Officers  of  our  receipt  for  the 
repayment  thereof  at  the  time  limitted.  —  Giuen 
under  our  Priuy  Seale  at  our  Paliace  of  West- 
minster. 

"Carolus  Rex." 

So  ran  the  curious  communication  put  into  the 

hands  of  Ambrose  Powell. 

A  letter  of  "  Loan  by  Privy  Seal "  even  more 
execrable  both  as  to  grammar  and  diction  than 
the  documents  emanating  from  Royalty  at  the 
present  day — and  that  is  admitting  much. 

Spoke  the  master  of  Hollymead,  after  perusing 
it:— 

**  Request  for  a  loan,  the  King  calls  this !  Beg- 
garly enough  in  the  beginning — a  very  whine  ;  but 
at  the  end  more  like  the  demand  of  a  robber !  " 

"  Mr.  Powell ! "  cried  he  who  had  presented  it, 
his  back  now  up  in  anger,  *' though  but  the 
messenger  of  Sir  John  Wintour,  at  the  same  time 
Tm  in  the  service  of  the  King.  And,  holding  his 
Majesty's  commission,  I  cannot  allow  such  talk  as 
yours.  It's  almost  the  same  as  calling  the  King 
a  robber ! " 

"Take  it  as  all  the  same,  if  you  Hke,  sirrah! 
And  apply  it  also  to  Sir  John  Wintour,  your 
more  immediate  master.  Go  back,  and  say  to 
both  how  IVe  treated  the  begging  petition — 
thus ! '' 

And  at  the  word  he  tore  the  paper  into  scraps, 
flinging  them  at  his  feet,  as  something  to  be 
trampled  upon. 

At    this    Reginald    Trevor  became   furious;    all 


J^O  NO  QUARtER! 

the  more  from  again  seeing  two  feminine  faces  in 
the  window  above,  by  their  looks  both  seeming  to 
speak  approval  of  what  their  father  had  said  and 
done. 

He  might  have  given  exhibition  of  his  anger  by 
some  act  of  violence;  but  just  then  he  saw  some- 
thing else  which  prompted  to  prudence,  effectually 
restraining  it.  This  something  in  the  shape  of 
three  or  four  stalwart  fellows  —  stablemen  and 
servants  of  other  sorts  belonging  to  Hollymead 
House — who,  having  caught  sound  of  the  fracas  in 
front,  now  appeared  coming  round  from  the  rear. 

No  need  for  Reginald  Trevor,  noting  the  scowl 
upon  their  faces,  to  tell  him  they  were  foes,  and 
as  little  to  convince  him  of  the  small  chance  he 
and  his  varlet  would  have  in  an  encounter  with 
them.  He  neither  thought  of  it  nor  any  longer 
felt  inclined  to  take  vengeful  action,  not  even  to 
speaking  some  strong  words  of  menace  that  had 
risen  to  his  lips.  Instead,  choking  them  down, 
and  swallowing  his  chagrin  as  he  best  could,  he 
said,  in  a  resigned,  humble  way, — 

"  Oh !  well,  Mr.  Powell ;  what  you've  done  or 
intend  doing  is  no  affair  of  mine — specially.  As 
you  know,  Tm  here  but  in  the  performance  of  my 
duty,  which  I  need  not  tell  you  is  to  me  most 
disagreeable." 

<<  Very  disagreeable,  no  doubt ! "  rejoined  the 
master  of  Hollymead,  in  a  tone  of  cutting  sar- 
casm ;  "  and  being  so,  the  sooner  you  get 
through  with  it  the  better.  I  think  you've  made 
a  finish  of  it  now,  unless  you  deem  it  part  of  this 
disagreeable  duty  to  gather  up  those  torn  scraps 
of  the  King*s  letter,  and  carry  them  back  to  the 
Queen's  obsequious  servant,  and  your  master,  Sir 
John." 

In    the    way    of   insult,    taunt    could    scarce  go 


A  RIGHT   ROYAL  EPISTLE.  7 1 

farther.  And  he  against  whom  it  was  hurled 
keenly  felt  it ;  at  the  same  time  felt  his  own  im- 
potence either  to  resent  or  reply  to  it.  For  the 
three  or  four  fellows,  with  black  brows,  advancing 
from  the  rear,  had  been  further  reinforced,  and 
now  numbered  nearly  a  dozen 

**  I  bid  you  good-evening,  Mr.  Powell/*  said  the 
emissary,  as  he  turned  his  horse  round,  but  too 
glad  to  get  away  from  that  unpleasant  spot. 

"  Oh  !  good  -  evening,  sir,"  returned  the  master 
of  Hollymead,  in  a  tone  of  mock  politeness ;  after 
which  he  stood  watching  the  ill-received  visitor, 
till  he  saw  him  go  out  through  the  gates  of  his 
park. 

Then  over  Ambrose  PowelFs  face  came  a 
shadow — the  shadow  of  a  fear.  For  he  knew  he 
had  offended  a  Royal  tyrant,  who,  though  now 
weaker  than  he  had  been  through  the  restraint  of 
a  Parliament,  might  still  have  strength  enough  to 
tear  him. 

"  My  dear  children,*'  he  said,  as  he  joined  them 
in  the  withdrawing  room,  "the  trouble  I've  been 
long  anticipating  has  come  at  last.  We  will  have 
to  leave  Hollymead,  or  I  must  fortify  and   defend 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  COUSINS. 

The  sun  had  set  as  Reginald  Trevor  rode  out  of 
Hollymead  Park.  But  he  did  not  intend  returning 
to  Lydney  that  night ;  instead,  purposed  passing 
it  in  Ross,  to  which  town  he  had  also  an  errand. 
By  making  free  use  of  the  spur  he  might  still 
reach  his  destination  within  the  twilight. 

Outside  the  park  gate  he  was  about  turning  in 
the  Ross  direction  when  he  saw  a  party  on  horse- 
back advancing  from  the  opposite,  as  he  had 
himself  come.  Four  there  were — two  gentlemen 
in  front,  with  their  respective  attendants  a  little 
behind.  He  could  have  shunned  them  by  riding 
rapidly  on  before  ;  but  from  the  stylish  appearance 
of  one  of  the  gentlemen  he  took  it  they  were 
Cavaliers,  possibly  might  be  acquaintances ;  and 
after  his  long,  lonely  ride  he  was  in  the  humour 
for  company.  It  might  help  him  some  little  to 
get  over  his  chagrin.  So  he  drew  rein,  and  sate 
in  his  saddle  waiting  for  them  to  come  up. 

There  was  a  wide  sweep  of  grass  -  grown  turf 
between  the  park  gate  and  the  public  road,  and 
he  had  halted'  at  the  end  of  it  on  the  right.  Soon 
the  party  approaching  reached  the  other,  and  he 
saw,  with  some  surprise,  and  a  little  vexation,  their 
horses'  heads  being  turned  in  towards  the  gate. 
Whoever  the  gentlemen   might   be,  they  were    ev^- 


THE  COUSINS.  73 

dently  bent  upon  a  visit  to  the  house  that  had 
refused  hospitality  to  himself. 

With  something  more  than  curiosity  he  scanned 
them  now.  Were  they  known  to  him  ?  Yes ! 
one  was ;  his  surprise  becoming  astonishment,  as 
in  the  more  showily-attired  of  the  two  gentlemen 
he  recognised  his  cousin  Eustace. 

**  You,  Eust ! "  he  exclaimed,  drawing  his  horse 
round,  and  trotting  towards  his  kinsman ;  his 
glance  given  to  the  other  being  as  that  to 
a  stranger;  for  he  was  not  acquainted  with  Sir 
Richard  Walwyn. 

"  Yoii,  Rej  !  "  was  the  ail-but  echo  of  a  response, 
and  the  cousins  came  together,  Sir  Richard  pass- 
ing on  into  the  park.  The  gentleman  tax-gatherer, 
still  smarting  under  the  rebuff  given  him,  the  smart 
shared  by  his  servant,  had  ill-manneredly  left  the 
gate  open  behind  them. 

It  was  months  since  the  cousins  had  met ; 
though  each  knew  where  the  other  was,  or  ought 
to  be.  Hence  Reginald's  surprise  to  see  Eustace 
there,  supposing  him  to  be  engaged  in  his  duties 
at  Court.  He  spoke  it  inquiringly,  as  they  held 
out  to  shake  hands ;  but,  before  the  other  could 
make  answer,  he  saw  that  which  gave  him  a 
start — blood  upon  the  hand  extended  to  him ! 
The  white  buckskin  glove  was  reddened  with  it 
all  over  up  to  the  gauntlets. 

"  God  bless  me,  Eust !  what's  this  ?  A  wound  ! 
Have  you  been  quarrelling  ?  " 

"  Oh !  nothing  much.  Only  a  little  prick  in  the 
wrist." 

"  Prick  in  the  wrist !     But  from  what  ?  " 

**The  point  of  a  rapier." 

**  The  deuce !  Then  you  Aave  been  quarrelling. 
With  whom,  pray.?" 

"Speak  a  little  lower,  Rej.      I'd  rather  Ae  didn't 


74  NO  quarter! 

And  Eustace  nodded  towards  Sfr  Richard,  who 
was  not  yet  quite  beyond  earshot. 

"  Surely  you  don't  mean  the  afifair  was  with 
him  ? " 

''  I  do— it  was." 

"  He  got  the  better  of  you  ?  •" 

"  Quick  as  you  could  count  ten.** 

**  Zounds !  that's  strange — you  such  a  swordsman ! 
But  still  stranger  what  I  see  now,  your  being  in 
his  company.     Not  his  prisoner,  are  you  ? " 

"  Well,  in  a  way  I  am." 

"  In  that  case,  cousin,  my  sword's  at  your 
service.  So  let  me  try  conclusions  with  him.  Pos- 
sibly, I  may  get  you  a  revanche ;  at  the  same  time 
release  you  from  any  parole  you  may  be  under." 

Though,  but  the  moment  before,  some  little 
cowed,  and  declining  a  combat  with  serving  men, 
Reginald  Trevor  was  all  courage  now  ;  and  feared 
not  to  meet  a  gentleman  in  fair  fight.  For  he 
saw  that  Trevor  blood  had  been  spilt,  and,  although 
he  and  his  cousin  Eustace  had  never  been  bosom 
friends,  they  were  yet  of  the  same  family.  The 
hot  Cymric  blood  that  ran  in  the  veins  of  both 
boiled  up  in  his  to  avenge  whatever  defeat  his 
kinsman  might  have  sustained,  and  without  await- 
ing answer  he  asked  impatiently, — 

"Shall  I  follow,  and  flout  him,  Eust?  I  will  if 
you  but  say  the  word." 

"No,  Rej ;  nothing  of  the  sort  Thank  you  all 
the  same." 

"  Well ;  if  you're  against  it,  I  won't.  But  it 
edges  a  Trevor's  teeth  to  see  one  of  his  kin — full 
cousin,  too  —  worsted,  conquered,  dead  -  down  as 
you  seem  to  be.  All,  I  suppose,  from  your  an- 
tagonist being  a  bit  bigger  and  older  than  you 
are.  He's  that  as  regards  myself;  for  £^1I  I've  UQ 
fear  to  face  hiox." 


tttE  COUSINS.  ^5 

"I  know  you  haven't,  Rej.  But  don't  be  angry 
with  me  for  saying,  if  you  did,  it  would  end  as 
it  has  with  me — maybe  worse." 

The  ci-devant  gentleman  usher  spoke  with  some 
pique.  Notwithstanding  the  generous  offer  of  his 
cousin  to  espouse  his  quarrel,  there  was  that  in 
the  proposal  itself  which  seemed  to  reflect  on  his 
own  capability — a  suggestion,  almost  an  assertion, 
of  patronising  superiority. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Eustace?"  asked  the 
other,  looking  a  little  roughed. 

**That  yonder  gentleman,"  he  nodded  towards 
Sir  Richard,  now  well  out  of  hearing,  **  is  a  per- 
fect master  of  both  sword  and  horse.  He  proved 
himself  my  master  in  less  than  five  minutes  after 
engaging ;  could  have  thrust  me  in  as  many 
seconds  had  he  been  so  disposed.  While  fighting 
with  him  I  felt  a  very  child  in  his  hands  ;  and 
he,  as  I  now  chance  to  know,  was  but  playing 
with  me.  In  the  end  he  disarmed  me— could 
have  done  it  long  before — by  this  touch  in  the 
wrist,  which  sent  my  rapier  spinning  off  into  the 
air.  That  isn't  all.  He  has  disarmed  me  in 
another  sense ;  changed  me  from  angry  foe  to,  I 
might  almost  say,  friend.  That's  why  I've  told 
you  that  I'm  in  a  way  his  prisoner." 

"  It's  a  strange  tale,"  rejoined  Reginald,  choking 
down  his  wrath.  "  All  that,  by  sun,  moon,  and  stars  ! 
But  I  won't  question  you  further  about  it ;  only 
tell  me  why  you  are  here.  I  thought  you  were 
so  fixed  in  the  Palace  of  Westminster,  such  a 
favourite  of  the  grand  lady  who  there  rules  the 
mart,  you'd  never  more  care  to  breathe  a  breath 
of  country  air.  Yet  here  I  find  you  in  the  Forest 
oi  Dean — its  very  heart — far  away  from  court  and 
city  life  as  man  could  well  get  within  England's 
realm.     How  has  it  come  about,  cousin } " 


76  No  QUARTER  I 

"I  wouldn't  mind  telling  you,  Rej,  if  there  was 
time.  But  there  isn't  As  you  see,  Sir  Richard 
is  waiting  for  me." 

"  Sir  Richard  who  ?  " 

"Walwyn." 

"Oh,  that's  the  name  ot  your  generous  con- 
queror ?  " 

«  It  is." 

"  Fve  heard  of  the  individual,  though  never  saw 
him  till  nowt  But  how  fell  you  into  his  company, 
and  what   brought  about  your  quarrel  ? " 

"  Leave  it,  Rej,  like  other  matters,  till  we  meet 
again,  and  have  more  time  to  talk  over  such  things." 

*' Agreed.  Still  there's  time  to  say  why  you 
are  going  to  Hollymead   House." 

"Hollymead   House.?" 

"  Oh,  you  didn't  know  that  was  the  name  of 
Ambrose  Powell's  place  ! " 

"Ambrose  Powell?" 

"  What !  Nor  yet  the  name  of  the  man  you're 
about  to  pay  visit  to  ?  " 

"I  confess  I  do  not." 

"  Nor  anything  else  of  him  ? " 

"Nothing  whatever." 

He  was  on  the  point  of  adding,  "  Only  that  I've 
been  told  something  about  a  pair  of  pretty  girls," 
when  it  occurred  to  him  he  might  be  touching  on 
a  subject  in  which  his  cousin  had  a  tender  concern. 

"  'Pon  my  honour  !  "  rejoined  the  latter,  making 
an  uphill  attempt  to  laugh,  *'  the  tale  grows  stranger 
and  stranger !  You,  of  the  King  s  Household,  on 
your  way  to  make  acquaintance — friendly,  of  course 
— with  one  of  his  Majesty's  greatest  and  most  pro- 
nounced enemies — a  man  who  hates  King,  Court, 
and  Church ;  above  all,  bitter  against  your  especial 
patroness,  the  Queen.  I've  heard  him  call  her  a 
Jezebel,  with  other  opprobrious  epithets." 


THE   COUSINS.  ^^ 

"Odd  in  you,  Rej,  such  a  devoted  Royalist,  to 
have  listened  calmly  to  all  that !  " 

"  I  didn't  listen  calmly ;  would  have  quickly 
stopped  his  seditious  chattering,  but  for " 

**  For   what  ? "    asked   the   other,   seeing   he   hesi 
tated. 

"Oh,  certain  reasons  I  may  some  day  make 
known  to  you.  Like  yourself,  Eust,  I  have  some 
secrets." 

Eust  thought  he  could  give  a  good  guess  at  one 
of  them,  but  mercifully  forbore  allusion  to  it. 

**  But,"  he  said,  with  an  air  of  pretended  sur- 
prise, "you've  been  just  visiting  this  terrible  king- 
hater  yourself,  Rej  ?  If  I  mistake  not,  you  came 
out  of  the  park.  You  were  up  to  the  house,  were 
you  not } " 

"  I  was." 

"And  has  it  shaken  your  loyalty,  or  in  any  way 
weakened  it  ?  " 

"  On  the  contrary,  strengthened  it.  My  errand 
to  Ambrose  Powell,  with  the  reception  he  vouch- 
safed me — the  ill-grained  curmudgeon — has  had  all 
that  effect." 

"  Then  you've  been  quarrelling,  too !  Have  you 
any  objection  to  tell  me  what  about  .'^'^ 

"  Not  the  slightest.  I  was  the  bearer  of  a  letter 
of  Privy  Seal  to  him — for  a  loan.  Sir  John  Win- 
tour,  as  you  may  be  aware,  has  been  appointed 
one  of  the  King's  Commissioners  of  Array  for 
West  Gloucestershire  and  the  Forest.  You  know 
I'm  in  his  service,  which  will  make  the  matter 
understandable  to  you." 

**  And  you  haven't  got  the  money }  I  needn't 
ask  ;  there's  the  signs  of  refusal  in  your  face." 

**  Got  the  money  !  Zounds  !  no.  Instead,  the 
recusant  tore  the  letter  into  shreds,  and  flung  them 
^t   his   feet  ;  defying   me.   Sir  John,  King,  and   all ! 


78  NO  quarter! 

Ah  ^  well ;  that  won't  be  the  end  of  it.  I  shall  be 
sure  of  having  occasion  to  visit  Hollymead  again, 
and  ere  long !  Next  time  the  tables  will  be 
turned.  But,  cousin,  after  hearing  what  I've  told 
you,  are  you  still  in  the  mind  to  go  on  to  that 
seditious  den  ?  If  you  take  my  advice,  you'll  turn 
your  back  on  Hollymead  House,  and  come  along 
with  me.     Fm  making  for  Ross." 

"  To  take  your  advice,  Rej,  would  be  to  do  as 
rude  a  thing  as  a  man  well  could — ruder  than  I 
ever  did  in  my  life.  Disloyal,  too — doubly  so ; 
I  should  be  traitor  to  gratitude,  as  to  courtesy. 
Indeed,  I've  trenched  scandalously  on  good  manners 
now,  by  keeping  yonder  gentleman  so  long  waiting 
for  me." 

He  nodded  towards  Sir  Richard,  who  had  halted 
at  some  distance  up  the  avenue. 

"Oh,  very  well,"  sneeringly  rejoined  Sir  John 
Wintour's  emissary.  **0f  course,  you  can  do  as 
you  like,  Eust.  I'm  not  your  master,  though  yonder 
gentleman,  as  you  call  him,  seems  to  be.  Good- 
evening!" 

And  with  this  curt  leave-taking,  the  sneer  still 
on  his  face,  he  dug  the  spurs  deep  into  his  horse's 
ribs,  and  went  off  at  a  gallop  along  the  road  for 
Ross. 


CHAPTER  XL 

I  THREE  CURIOUS  CHARACTERa 

**Yee-UP,  Jinkum!   Yee-up!" 

The  exclamations  were  accompanied  by  the 
thwack  of  a  stick  over  the  hips  of  a  donkey  half- 
hidden  under  a  pair  of  panniers. 

"Don't  press  the  poor  creetur,  Jack.  It  be  a 
hardish    climb  up  the  pitch.     Gie't  its  time." 

"But  you  know,  Winny,  the  panners  be  most 
nigh  empty — more's  the  pity." 

''True  o*  that.  But  consider  how  fur's  been  the 
day.  Seven  mile  to  Monnerth — a  good  full  load 
goin' — an*  same  back,  whens  we  be  home.  An't 
han't  had  thing  to  eat,  'cept  the  pickings  'long  the 
roadside." 

"All  the  more  reezun  for  gittin'  'im  soon  home. 
I'd  lay  wager,  if  the  anymal  kud  speak,  't  'ud  say 
the  same." 

"Might.  But,  fr  all  that,  him's  rightdown  tired. 
If  him  want,  there  wud  be  no  need  yer  slappin 
he.     Don't  slap  him  any  more.  Jack." 

"Well,  I  won't  Yee-up,  Jinkum!  I  'ant  a-goin' 
to  gi'  ye  the  stick  agen.  'Nother  mile,  and  ye'U 
be  back  to  yer  own  bit  o'  paster  in  the  oie  orchart, 
whar  the  grass '11  be  up  to  yer  ears.     Yee-up ! " 

At  which  Jinkum,  as  though  comprehending  the 
merciful  disposition  towards  him,  and  grateful  for 
it,  seemed  to  improve  his  pace. 

The  speakers  were  a  man   and  woman,  both  of 
♦  ?» 


5o  NO  quarter! 

uncommon  appearance — the  man  a  diminutive 
specimen  of  humanity,  who  walked  with  a  jerking 
gait,  due  to  his  having  a  wooden  leg.  The  woman 
was  taller  than  he,  by  the  head  and  shoulders 
quite;  while  in  every  other  way  above  the  usual 
dimensions  of  her  sex.  Of  a  somewhat  masculine 
aspect,  she  was  withal  far  from  ill-favoured — rather 
the  contrary.  Her  gown  of  coarse  homespun,  dust- 
stained  and  delabr^y  could  not  conceal  a  voluptuous 
outline  of  figure ;  while  to  have  her  eyes  and  hair 
many  a  queen  would  have  been  glad  to  give  the 
costliest  jewel  in  her  crown..  The  complexion  was 
dark,  the  features  of  a  gipsy  type — though  she  was 
not  one — the  hair,  a  very  hatful,  carelessly  coiled 
around  her  head,  black  as  the  wing  of  a  crow. 
The  first  thought  of  one  beholding  her  would  be: 
"  What  a  woman,  if  but  washed  and  becomingly 
clad  1 "  For  both  skin  and  dress  showed  some- 
thing more  than  the  dust  that  day  caught  up  from 
the  road — smouches  of  older  date.  Despite  all,  she 
was  a  grand,  imposing  personage ;  of  tireless 
strength,  too,  as  evinced  by  her  easy,  elastic  step 
while  breasting  that  steep  pitch  on  her  twenty- 
second  mile  since  morning.  The  journey  seemed 
to  have  had  little  effect  on  her,  however  it  may 
have  jaded  Jinkum. 

Notwithstanding  the  disparity  in  size  between 
the  man  and  woman — a  good  deal  also  in  their 
age,  he  being  much  her  senior — they  bore  a  certain 
resemblance  to  one  another.  It  lay  in  their  features 
and  complexion ;  Jack  having  a  gipsyish  look,  too. 
Nor  any  wonder  at  their  being  some  little  alike, 
since  they  were  not  man  and  wife,  but  brother 
and  sister — both  born  Foresters.  There  was  no- 
thing in  the  character  of  either  at  all  disreputable, 
though  their  business  was  such  as  usually  brings 
suspicion  on  those  who  follow  it.     Known  all  over 


THREE  CURIOUS  CHARACTERS.  8 1 

the  forest,  and  for  miles  around  it,  as  cadgers, 
they  trafficked  in  every  conceivable  thing  by  which 
an  honest  penny  might  be  made,  though  their 
speciaHty  was  the  transport  of  fowls,  with  other 
products  of  the  farmyard,  to  the  markets  of  Ross 
and  Monmouth  —  generally  on  freight  account  — 
taking  back  such  parcels  as  they  could  pick  up. 
Ruardean  was  their  port  of  departure  and  return ; 
their  home,  when  they  were  at  home,  being  a  cot- 
tage in  the  outskirts  of  that  elevated  village. 

Rarely,  if  ever,  were  "Jerky  Jack" — the  soubriquet 
his  gait  had  gained  for  him — and  his  big  sister 
seen  apart ;  Winny,  or  Winifred  —  for  such  was 
her  baptismal  name — being  a  valuable  helpmate 
to  him.     Some  said  she  was  more — his  master. 

That  day  they  had  been  to  Monmouth  market, 
and  now,  at  a  late  hour  of  the  evening  —  after 
sunset — they  were  climbing  Cat's  Hill  on  their 
return  homeward.  As  already  said,  there  was 
then  no  Kerne  bridge,  and  they  had  crossed  by 
the  ferry  at  Goodrich  ;  a  roundabout  way  to  where 
they  now  were,  but  unavoidable — making  good  the 
woman's  estimate  of  the  distance. 

Up  the  remainder  of  the  pitch,  Jerky  kept  his 
word,  and  no  more  stick  was  administered  to 
Jinkum.  But  before  reaching  the  summit  the  tired 
animal  was  treated  to  a  spell  of  rest,  for  which 
it  might  thank  a  man  there  met,  or  rather  one 
who  dropped  upon  them  as  from  the  clouds.  For 
he  had  come  slithering  down  a  steep  shelving 
bank  that  bordered  the  road,  suddenly  present- 
ing himself  to  their  view  outside  the  selvage  of 
bushes. 

Notwithstanding  his  impromptu  appearance,  nei- 
ther showed  sign  of  alarm  nor  surprise.  Evidently 
they  expected  him ;  for  but  the  minute  before  a 
§Q\Anid    resembling    the    call    of    the    green    wood- 


82  NO  quarter! 

pecker  —  the  "heekul,"  as  known  to  them  —  had 
reached  their  ears,  causing  them  to  turn  their  eyes 
toward  the  direction  whence  it  came.  From  the 
wood,  where,  of  course,  they  could  see  nothing ; 
but  there  was  a  peculiarity  in  the  intonation  of 
the  sound,  telling  them  it  proceeded  not  from  the 
throat  of  a  bird,  but  was  in  some  way  made  by 
a  man.  That  the  woman  knew  how,  and  who  the 
man,  she  gave  evidence  by  saying,  "  That  be 
Rob  ! "  as  she  spoke  a  pleased  expression  coming 
over  her  countenance. 

Whether  Rob  or  no,  he  who  so  mysteriously 
and  fantastically  presented  himself  to  their  notice 
was  a  man  of  aspect  remarkable  as  either  of  them. 
In  size  a  Colossus ;  dark-complexioned  like  them- 
selves, with  full  beard,  and  thick  shock  of  brown- 
black  hair  standing  out  around  his  neck  in  curls 
and  tangles.  His  coat  of  bottle-green  cloth — 
amply  skirted — and  red  plush  waistcoat,  showed 
creased  and  frowsy,  as  if  he  had  passed  the 
previous  night,  and  many  preceding  it,  in  a  shed 
or  under  a  tree.  For  all,  there  was  something 
majestic  in  his  mien,  just  as  with  the  woman — 
a  savage  grandeur  independent  of  garb,  which 
could  assert  itself  under  a  drapery  of  rags. 

As  the  three  came  together,  he  was  the  first  to 
speak,  more  particularly  addressing  himself  to  Jerky. 
For  the  sister  had  a  little  side  business  to  transact, 
plunging  her  hand  into  one  of  the  panniers,  and 
bringing  forth  a  basket,  out  of  which  the  neck  of 
a  bottle  protruded. 

"Well,  Jack!  What's  the  news  down  Monnerth 
way?"   was  the  commencement  of  the  colloquy. 

"  Lots,   Rob ;   *nough   if  they  were  wrote  out  on 
paper  to   fill   them    panners,   an*   load   the  donkey 
down." 
•    Jinkum's  owner  was    of   ^    humorous  turn,  and 


TttREE  CtJRIOUS  CHARACtERS.  8j 

dealt   in   figures    of   speech,   often   odd   and   varied 

as  his  bills  of  lading. 

"Tell  us  some  o'  *em,"  requested  Rob,  placing 
himself  in  an  attitude  to  listen. 

"Well,"  proceeded  the  cadger,  "it  be  most  all 
*bout  politicks  there  now,  wi'  rumours  o'  war,  they 
say  be  a  brewin*.  The  market  war  full  o*  them 
rough  'uns  from  Raglan  side,  Lord  Worster's 
people,  bullyin*  everybody  an  threetenin'  all  as 
wudn't  cry  out  for  the   King." 

"  Ay ; "  here  interposed  the  big  sister,  with  a 
sneer,  "an'  you  cried  it,  Jack — shouted  till  I  was 
afeerd  you'd  split  yer  windpipe.      That  ye  did ! " 

"And  if  I  did,*'  rejoined  Jack,  excusing  himself, 
"how  war  I  to  help  it?  If  I  hadn't  they'd  a 
throttled  me;  may-be  pulled  off  my  wooden  leg, 
and  smashed  my  skull  wi't.  An'  ye  know  that, 
Winny.  A  man  who'd  a  said  word  there  favour 
o'  the  Parly m en t  wud  a  stud  good  chance  o' 
gettin'  tore  limb  fro'  limb.  Tho'  I  han't  two  for 
'em  to  tear  sunderwise,  I  wasn't  the  fool  to  go 
buttin  my  head  'gainst  a  wall  when  no  good  could 
come  o't.  If  I  did  cry  *  Long  live  the  King!'  I 
thinked   the  contrary,  as  Rob  knows  I  do." 

"That  do  I,  Jack,  right  well.  A  true  free-born 
Forester,  as  myself,  I  know  you  ha'  no  leanin' 
like  as  them  o'  Monnerth  and  Lydney ;  Royalists 
an'  Papists,  who  want  to  make  slaves  o'  us,  both 
body  and  soul,  an'  keep  us  toilin'  for  them  an' 
their  fine-dressed  favourites — devil  burn   'em  !  " 

Having  thus  delivered  himself,  the  free-born 
Forester  dropped  conversation  with  Jerky,  con- 
fining it  to  the  sister.  For  which  Jack  gave 
them  an  opportunity,  shrewdly  guessing  it  was 
desired.  Once  more  saluting  Jinkum  with  a  "yee- 
up ! "  he  started  the  animal  off  again  up  the  hill, 
himself  stumping  briskly  after. 


CHAPTER  Xir 

A  COMBAT  IN  A 'qUARRY. 

The  man  and  woman  left  behind,  as  they  stood 
viS'd'ViSj  presented  a  striking  appearance.  Such  a 
pair  in  juxtaposition  were  a  sight  not  often  given 
to  the  eye.  He  some  inches  the  taller — though 
well  matched  as  regarded  the  distinction  of  the 
sexes ;  but  both  of  towering  stature,  with  air  so 
commanding  that  one,  who  could  have  seen  them 
there  and  then,  would  not  have  given  a  thought  to 
the  coarseness  of  their  apparel,  or,  if  so,  instantly 
forgetting  it.  Looking  at  their  faces,  in  their 
eyes  as  they  met  in  mutual  gaze,  he  would  have 
noticed  something  of  a  nature  to  interest  more 
than  any  quality  or  fashion  of  dress — the  light  of 
love.  For  they  loved  one  another  warmly,  and, 
perhaps,  as  purely  and  tenderly,  as  if  their  hearts 
had  been  beating  under  robes  of  silk. 

No  words  of  love  passed  between  them  now. 
If  they  intended  speaking  such,  they  held  them 
in  reserve  till  matters  more  pressing  should  be 
disposed  of.  ^ 

Upon  these  the  man  entered  at  once,  askingj — 

"  Heerd  you  any  thin'  'bout  me,  Win  ?  " 

«  Yes,  Rob." 

"What?" 

"They  have  been  wonderin'  how  ye  managed  to 

get  out  o't  gaol,  an'  blame  Will  Morgan  for  lendin' 

ye   a   hand.      Day   afore   yesterday    a   party   came 

84 


A  COMBAT  IN  A  QUARRY.  85 

over  from  Lydney  wi*  that  young  officer  as  be 
wi'  Sir  John  Winter  —  Trevor  I  think  they  call 
him." 

"  Yes  ;  that's  the  name.  I  know  him  well  enough 
—  too  well.  'Twas  he  as  took  me  in  the  High 
Meadows." 

« Oh !  it  was.  Well ;  he  hev  taked  Will,  too, 
an'  carried  him  away  to  Lydney,  where  Sir  John 
ha'  now  got  a  gaol  o'  his  own.  There  wor  some 
trouble  'bout  it ;  the  Lord  Herbert,  who*s  governor 
at  Monnerth,  claimin'  him  as  his  prisoner.  But  the 
other  sayed  as  yours  wor  a  case  o'  deer-stealin'  in 
the  Forest,  an'  Will  had  helped,  ye  ought  both  be 
taken  before  Sir  John  an'  tried  by  him,  he  bein* 
head  man  o'  it.  Then  Lord  Herbert  gave  in,  an' 
let  them  take  him  off.  Will  did  help  ye  a  bit, 
didn't  he?" 

"  More'n  a  bit.  But  for  him,  liker  than  not,  I'd 
now  be  in  theer  lock-up  at  Lydney.  Well,  if  he 
be  goed  there  he  mayn't  ha'  so  long  to  stay  as 
they  think  for  —  won't,  if  what  I've  heerd  be 
true." 

''  What's  ye  heerd,  Rob  > " 

"  Some  news  as  ha'  just  come  down  from 
Lunnun.  It's  sayed  the  King's  been  chased  out 
o't,  an'  the  Parlyment  be  now  havin'  it  all  theer 
own  way.  Supposin'  that's  the  case,  Sir  John 
Winter  won't  hae  it  all  his  own  way  much  longer. 
We  Foresters  '11  deal  wi'  him  diff'rent  from  what 
we've  been  a  doin'.  An'  'bout  that  I  ha*  got  word 
o'  somethin  else." 

"  W^hat  somethin'  ?  " 

"A  man,  they  say's  comin'  down  here  —  from 
Lunnun  too.  One  o'  the  right  sort — friend  o'  the 
people.  Besides,  a  soldier  as  ha'  seen  foreign 
service,     an'    is    reckoned     'mong     the     best     an 


S6  NO  QUARTER  1 

"  I  think  I  know  who  ye   mean,   Roh,    Ain't  it 

Sir  Richard  Walwyn?" 

"That's  the  man." 

"He  wor  at  Hollymead  fore  he  went  away  to 
the  wars.  IVc  seed  him  many's  the  time.  He 
used  to  often  ride  past  our  place,  an'  always 
stopped  to  ha*  a  word  an*  a  joke  wi*  Jack.  That 
makes  me  remember  him  ;  an'  if  I  beant  mistook 
somebody  else  ha'  rememl^rance  o*  him  in  a 
different  way,  an*  ain't  like  ever  to  forget  him." 

"Who?" 

"One  o*  the  young  ladies  o'  Hollymead —- the 
older  *un,  Miss  Sabrina.  I  ha'  heerd  as  much  from 
the  house  sarvints  theer." 

Just  the  shadow  of  a  cloud  had  shown  itself  on 
Rob's  brow  as  Win  commenced  giving  her  remi- 
niscences of  the  knight  who  had  been  visitor  at 
Hollymead  and  used  to  crack  jokes  with  Jerky. 
It  passed  off,  however,  ere  her  relation  came  to  an 
end. 

"  Well,  dear  Win,'*  he  said,  speaking  more  ten- 
derly from  consciousness  of  having  harboured  an 
unjust  suspicion ;  "  they  say  Sir  Richard  be  comin' 
down  to  raise  soldiers  for  the  Parlyment.  If  that 
be  so,  one  o'  the  first  to  join  him  '11  be  Rob  Wilde  ; 
an'  maybe  the  biggest,  if  not  best,  in  the  fightin* 
line.** 

"  You'll  be  the  best,  Rob ;  I  know  you  will. 
Who  could  equal  you  ?  " 

At  which  she  threw  open  her  arms,  then  closed 
them  around  his   neck,  covering  him  with  kisses. 

In  all  probability,  many  soft  words  and  much 
tender  concourse  would  have  succeeded  this  out- 
burst of  admiration.  But  the  opportunity  was  not 
allowed  them.  Just  then  they  heard  a  clattering 
of  hoofs,  horsemen  coming  down  the  road  from 
Ruardean,  at  a  gallop. 


A  COMBAT  IN  A  QtTARRV.  87 

Rob,  setting  his  ears  to  listen,  could  tell  there 
were  two  of  them,  but  nothing  more — nothing  to 
admonish  him  whether  they  were  friends  or 
enemies.  But  with  the  consciousness  of  having 
stolen  deer  and  broken  jail,  twenty  to  one  on 
their  being  the  latter,  reflected  he.  In  any  case 
prudence  counselled  him  hiding  himself,  and  letting 
the  horsemen' pass  on. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  spring  back  up  the 
bank,  leaving  the  woman  in  the  road.  They  could 
have  nothing  against  her,  whoever  they  were.  But 
they  were  near  now,  still  riding  rapidly,  and  before 
he  could  scramble  to  the  summit  of  the  slope 
would  be  sure  to  see  him.  Just  then,  a  hiding-place 
handier,  and  more  easily  accessible,  came  under 
his  eye ;  a  break  in  the  bank  just  opposite,  which 
he  knew  to  be  the  entrance  to  an  old  limestone 
quarry,  long  abandoned.  He  would  be  safe 
enough  in  there,  at  least  from  observation  by 
any  one  passing  down  the  road.  Whether  or  no, 
it  was  now  Hobson's  choice  with  him  ;  the  tramp- 
ling was  louder  and  clearer ;  and  but  for  an  abrupt 
bend  of  the  road  above  he  could  have  seen  the 
horsemen,  as  they  him.  No  alternative,  therefore, 
but  to  cut  into  the  quarry ;  which  he  did — the 
woman  with  him. 

Scarce  were  they  well  inside  it,  when  the  hoof- 
strokes  ceased  to  be  heard.  The  horses  had  been 
suddenly  pulled  up  ;  a  colloquy  ensuing. 

"  Hullo,  Jerky !  "  it  begun.  **  On  your  way  from 
Monmouth  market,   I   suppose?" 

"Yes,  yer  honour;  jist  that." 

"  But  Where's  your  big  sister  ?  IVe  met  you 
scores  of  times  along  the  roads,  though  never 
without  her.     I   hope  there's  nothing  amiss  ? " 

'*  Oh !  nothin',  sir.  She  be  wi*  me  now,  close  by, 
coming  up  the  pitch,  only  ha'  legged  a  bit  behint" 


ii  NO  quarter! 

"  Well,  Jack,  I  won't  detain  you  ;  as  I  must  not 
be  lagging  myself.  I  want  to  reach  Ross  before 
the  night's  on.     Good-bye,  old  cadge!" 

At  which  the  dialogue  came  to  an  end,  and 
the  hoof-strokes  were  again  heard,  now  coming 
close. 

Only  for  a  minute  or  so,  when  a  second  colloquy 
was  entered  upon,  this  time  one  of  the  voices  being 
different. 

Rob  Wilde  knew  them  both  ;  had  long  ago  re- 
cognised the  one  that  held  speech  with  the  cadger, 
and  had-  reason  to  feel  keenly  apprehensive  as  he 
listened.  Far  more  now,  as  the  words  of  the  latei 
dialogue  dropped  upon  his  ears. 

"  Old  Timber-toes  said  his  sister  was  just  behind. 
I  don't  see  anything  of  her;  and  certainly  she's 
not  one  there  should  be  any  difficulty  in  making 
out — even  at  a  league's  distance.  Hey  !  what  the 
deuce  is  that.?" 

And  Reginald  Trevor  again  reined  up.  For  it 
was  he,  with  his  servant 

"A  basket,  it  appears  to  be.  Captain,"  answered 
the  man,  "with  a  bottle  in  it.  Yes,"  he  added, 
after  drawing  closer,  lifting  it  from  the  ledge,  and 
peering  into  it.  "  Something  besides  the  bottle — 
bread,  cheese,  and  bacon." 

"  Where  there's  so  much  smoke  there  should  be 
some  fire,"  reflected  his  master,  who  had  halted  in 
the  middle  of  the  road.  Then,  thinking  it  odd  he 
saw  nothing  of  the  cadger's  sister,  and  noticing  the 
gap  leading  into  the  quarry,  it  occurred  to  him 
she  might  be  there.  Partly  out  of  curiosity,  and 
partly  from  an  intuition,  which  the  basket  of  pro- 
visions had  done  something  to  inspire,  he  headed 
his  horse  at  the  opening  and  rode  in. 

Soon  as  inside,  an  exclamation  rose  to  his  lips, 
in  tone  which  told  of  more  than  surprise.     There 


A  COMBAT  IN  A  QUARRY.  89 

^as  triumph,  exultation,  in  it.  For  there  saw  he, 
not  only  the  woman  missing  from  the  road,  but  a 
man,  the  same  who  had  been  for  some  time  missing 
from  Monmouth  Gaol.  The  bushes  in  the  old 
quarry  were  not  thick  enough,  nor  tall  enough,  to 
give  either  of  them  concealment ;  and  they  were 
standing  erect,  without  further  attempt  at  seeking 
it. 

"  Ho — ho !  my  giant,"  cried  the  officer.  "  It's 
here  you  are  ;  making  love  to  Jerky*s  sister.  And 
a  pretty  pair  of  love-birds  too  !  Ha !  ha !  That 
explains  the  basket  of  eatables  and  drinkables. 
What  a  pity  to  interrupt  your  billing  and  cooing  I 
But  I  must.  So  master  Rob,  deer-stealer  and  jail- 
breaker,"  he  added  drawing  his  sword.  **  Come 
along  with  me !  You  needn't  trouble  about  bring- 
ing the  basket.  In  the  Lydney  lock-up  I'll  see 
to  your  being  fed  free  of  expense." 

"  When  you  get  me  there,"  rejoined  Rob,  in 
defiant  tone,  as  he  spoke  pulli.ng  from  under  the 
breast  of  his  doublet  a  long-bladed  knife,  and 
setting  himself  firm  for  defence. 

This  was  unexpected  by  the  King's  oflScer,  who 
had  not  thought  or  dreamt  of  resistance.  It  was 
there,  however,  in  sure,  stern  shape,  and  he  felt 
himself  committed  to  overcoming  it.  With  a 
prick  of  his  spur  he  sprang  his  horse  forward,  and 
straight  at  Rob,  as  though  he  would  ride  over 
him,  his  sword  held  ready  for  either  cut  or  thrust. 

But  neither  gave  he,  nor  could.  As  the  horse's 
head  came  close  to  him,  the  Colossus  lunged  out 
with  long  arm,  and  sent  the  point  of  his  knife 
into  the  animal's  nostrils,  which  caused  it  to  rear 
up  and  round,  squealing  with  pain.  This  brought 
its  rider's  back  towards  the  man  who  had  pricked 
it ;  and  before  he  could  wheel  again,  Reginald 
Trevor  was  in  the  embrace  of  him  he  had  jokingly 


96  NO  QUAktER  1 

called  giant — realizing  that  he  had  the  strength 
of  one,  as  he  was  himself  dragged  out  of  his 
saddle. 

But  they  were  not  the  only  combatants  in  the 
quarry.  For,  following  his  master,  the  servant  had 
made  to  assist  him  in  his  assault  against  the  big 
man,  taking  no  note  of  the  big  woman,  or  fancying 
she  would  not  interfere.  In  which  fancy  he  was 
sadly  mistaken.  For  in  scrimmage  his  back  be- 
coming turned  upon  her,  as  if  taking  pattern  by 
Rob,  she  sprang  up,  caught  hold  of  the  light- 
weight groom,  and  jerked  him  to  the  ground, 
easily  as  she  would  have  pulled  a  bantam  cock 
from   out  one  of  the  Jinkum's  panniers. 

In  less  than  threescore  seconds  after  the  affair 
began,  Reginald  Trevor  and  his  attendant  were 
unhorsed,  disarmed,  and  held  as  in  the  hug  of  a 
couple  of  bears. 

"  I'll  let  ye  go,"  said  Rob  to  his  prisoner,  after 
some  rough  handling,  "  when  ye  say  you  won't 
take  advantage  o'  my  gen'rosity  by  renewin*  the 
attack.  Bah ! "  he  added,  without  waiting  for  re- 
sponse, *'  I'll  put  that  out  o'  yer  power." 

Saying  which,  he  caught  up  the  officer's  sword, 
and  broke  it  across  his  knee,  at  the  same  time 
releasing  him.  The  blade  of  the  attendant  was 
treated  likewise,  and  both  master  and  man  were 
permitted  to  rise  to  their  feet,  feeling  vanquished 
as  weaponless. 

**You  can  take  yourselves  off,"  sneeringly  said 
the  deer-stealer ;  "  an'  as  ye  talked  'bout  bein*  in 
Ross  'fore  nightfall,  you'll  do  well  to  make  quick 
time." 

Not  a  word  spoke  Reginald  Trevor  in  reply,  nor 
thanks  for  the  mercy  shown  him.  Too  angry  was 
he  for  that ;  his  anger  holding  him  speechless 
because  of  its  very  impotence.      In   sullen   silence 


A  COMBAT   IN   A  QUARRY.  9 1 

he  regained  the  bridle  of  his  horse — like  himself 
having  lost  spirit  by  copious  bleeding  of  the  nose 
— climbed  back  into  the  saddle,  and  continued  on 
down  Cat's  Hill,  his  varlet  behind  him,  both 
swordless,  and  yet  more  crestfallen  than  when 
they  rode  out  through  the  gate  of  HoUymead 
Park. 

*'  We're  in  for  it  now.  Win,"  said  Rob,  to  the 
cadger's  sister,  after  seeing  them  depart.  "  An' 
we've  got  to  look  out  for  danger.  I'm  sorry  'bout 
you  havin'  to  share  it ;  but  maybe  'twon't  be  so 
much,  after  all.  Once  Sir  Richard  gets  here,  an' 
the  fightin'  begins,  as  \t  surely  must  soon,  trust 
me  for  takin'  care  o'  ye." 

«  I   will— I  do,  Rob  !  " 

And  again  the  great  arms  were  thrown  around 
his  neck,  while  upon  his  lips  were  showered  a  very 
avalanche  of  kisses. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

LOOKING  FORWARD   TO  A  FIGHT. 

Some  truth  was  there  in  the  report  that  had 
reached  Rob  Wilde,  of  the  King  being  chased 
out  of  London.  Though  not  literally  chased,  after 
his  display  in  the  House  of  Commons,  ludicrous 
as  unconstitutional,  he  found  the  metropolis  too 
hot  for  him.  Moreover,  there  was  a  whisper  about 
impeaching  the  Queen  ;  and  this  arch  intrigante, 
notwithstanding  her  high  notions  of  Royal  right, 
was  now  in  a  fit  of  Royal  trembles.  Strafford  had 
lost  his  head,  Laud  was  in  prison,  likely  to  lose 
his ;  how  knew  she  but  that  those  bloodthirsty 
islanders  might  bring  her  own  under  the  axe  t 
They  had  done  as  much  for  a  Queen  more 
beautiful  than  she.  Mobs  daily  paraded  the 
streets,  passing  the  Palace ;  the  cry,  **  No 
bishops ! "  came  in  through  its  windows,  and 
Charles  trembled  as  he  thought  of  his  father's  sig- 
nificant epigram,  "  No  bishop,  no  king."  So  out 
of  Whitehall  they  slipped — first  to  Windsor  to 
pack  up  ;  the  Queen,  in  fine,  clearing  out  of  the 
country,  by  Dover,  to  Holland. 

It  was  a  backstairs  **  skedaddle"  with  her;  car- 
rying off  as  much  plunder  as  she  could  in  the 
scramble — chests  of  jewels  of  unknown  but  fabu- 
lous value,  as  that  represented  as  having  been 
found  in  the  isle  of  Monte  Cristo.  Enough,  at  all 
events,  to  hold   Court  abroad  ;  maintain  regal  sur- 


LOOKING  FORWARD   TO  A  FIGHT.  93 

roundings  ;  even  raise  an  army  for  the  reconquest 
and  re-enslavement  of  the  people  she  had  plun- 
dered. 

It  is  unpleasant  to  reflect  on  such  things,  far 
more  having  to  speak  of  them.  Sad  to  think  that 
though  England  is  two  centuries  and  a  half  older 
since  Charles  Stuart  and  Henrietta  de  Medic;  did 
all  in  their  power  to  outrage  her  people  and  rob 
them  of  their  rights,  this  same  people  is  to-day 
not  a  wit  the  wiser.  The  late  Liberal  victory,  as 
it  is  called,  may  be  urged  as  contradicting  this 
allegation  ;  but  against  that  is  to  be  set  the  be- 
haviour of  England's  .people,  as  represented  by 
their  Parliament  for  the  last  six  years,  sanctioning 
and  endorsing  deeds  that  have  brought  a  blight  on 
the  nation's  name,  and  a  cloud  over  its  character, 
it  will  take  centuries  to  clear  off.  And  against 
that,  too,  the  spirit  which  seems  likely  will  per- 
vade in  this  new  Legislative  Assembly,  and  the 
action  it  will  take.  When  the  Long  Parliament 
commenced  its  sittings,  the  patriots  composing  it 
never  dreamt  of  letting  crime  go  unpunished.  In- 
stead, their  first  thoughts  and  acts  were  to  bring 
the  betrayers  of  their  country  to  account.  "  Off 
with  his  head — so  much  for  Strafford  !  "  "  To  the 
Tower  with  Laud  and  the  twelve  recalcitrant 
bishops ! "  "  Clear  out  the  Star  Chamber  and 
High  Commission  Court!"  "Abolish  monopolies, 
Loans  of  Privy  Seal,  Ship-tax,  Coal  and  Conduit 
money,  with  the  other  iniquitous  imposts  ! "  And, 
presto  I  all  this  was  done  as  by  the  wand  of  a 
magician,  though  it  was  the  good  genius  then 
guiding  the  destinies  of  England.  Off  went 
Strafford's  head  ;  to  the  Tower  was  taken  Laud  ; 
and  the  infamous  royal  edicts  of  a  decade  preced- 
ing were  swept  from  the  statute-book,  as  by  a  wet 
sponge  passed  over  the  score  of  a  tapster's  slate. 


94  NO  quarter! 

What  do  we  see  now  ?  What  hear  ?  A  new 
Parliament  entering  on  power  under  circumstances 
So  like  those  that  ushered  in  the  "  Long "  as  to 
seem  almost  the  same.  And  a  Ministry  gone  out 
who  have  outraged  the  nation  as  much  as  did  the 
Straffords,  Digbys,  and  Lauds.  But  how  different 
the  action  taken  towards  them !  No  Bill  of  At- 
tainder talked  of,  no  word  of  impeachment,  not 
even  a  whisper  about  voting  want  of  confidence. 
Instead  of  being  sent  to  a  prison,  as  the  culprits 
of  1640,  they  of  1880  walk  out  of  office  and  away, 
with  a  free,  jaunty  step  and  air  of  bold  effrontery, 
blazoned  with  decorations  and  brand  new  titles 
bestowed  on  them — a  very  shower,  as  the  sparks 
frorri  a  .Catherine  wheel ! 

Verily  was  the  lot  of  Thomas  Wentworth,  Earl 
of  Strafford,  laid  in  unlucky  times.  Had  he  lived 
in  these  days,  so  far  from  losing  his  head,  it  would 
have  been  surmounted  by  a  ducal  coronet.  And 
•  Laud,  already  at  the  top  of  the  ecclesiastical  tree, 
with  no  possibility  of  hoisting  him  to  higher  earthly 
honours,  would  have  had  heavenly  ones  bestowed 
on  him  by  being  enrolled  among  the  saints. 

Though  merely  writing  a  romance,  who  will  say 
that  in  this  matter  I  am  romancing  ?  The  man 
that  does  must  be  what  Sir  Richard  Walwyn  pro- 
nounced him  who  is  not  a  Republican ;  and  back 
to  Sir  Richard's  dictum  I  refer  him. 

:|e  H:  *  ^  * 

Soon  as  Charles  had  got  his  Queen  safe  out  of 
harm's  ^\ay,  he  betook  himself  to  York,  there  to 
enter  upon  more  energetic  action.  For  there  he 
felt  safer  himself,  surrounded  by  a  host  of  hot  par- 
tisans. In  political  sentiment,  what  a  curious  rever- 
sion has  taken  place  since  then  between  the  capitals 
of  the  North  and  South  —  almost  an  exchange! 
Then  York  was  all  Royalist,  and  as  a  consequence 


LOOKING  FORWARD  TO  A  FIGHT.  9$ 

filled  with  the  foes  of  Liberty  ;  London  full  of  its 
friends.  Now  the  former  has  mounted  to  the  very 
hill-top  of  Liberal  aspiration  ;  the  latter  sunk  into 
the  slough  of  a  shameful  retrogression ! 

But  the  thing  is  easily  explained.  Those  who 
dwell  in  the  kingdom's  capital  are  nearer  to  the 
source  of  contamination.  There  Bung  and  Beadle- 
dom, with  their  vested  rights,  hold  sway  ;  there  the 
scribblers  who  wear  plush  find  encouragement  and 
promotion  ;  while  the  corrupting  influence  of 
modern  finance  has  nursed  into  life  and  strength  a 
swarm  of  gamblers  in  stocks,  promoters  of  bubble 
companies,  tricksters  in  trade,  and  music-hall  cads 
— a  sorry  replacement  of  the  honest  mercers  and 
trusty  apprentices    of  the   Parliamentary  times. 

Once  separated  from  his  Parliament,  the  King 
had  an  instinct  that  all  friendly  intercourse 
between  it  and  himself  would  soon  be  at  an  end  ; 
this  nursed  into  conviction  by  the  Hertfords, 
Digbys,  and  other  like  ** chicks"  who  formed  his 
entourage.  Active  became  he  now  in  adopting 
precautions,  and  taking  measures  to  sustain  him- 
self in  the  struggle  that  was  imminent.  And  now 
more  industrious  than  ever  in  the  way  of  money 
raising ;  anew  granting  monopolies,  and  sending 
letters  of  Privy  Seal  all  over  the  land,  wherever 
there  seemed  a  chance  of  enforcing  their  demands 
— for  demands  were  they,  as  we  have  seen.  To 
Sir  John  Wintour  had  been  entrusted  some  scores 
of  these  precious  epistles,  with  authority  to  deliver 
them,  collect  the  proceeds,  and  send  them  on  to 
replenish  the  royal  exchequer ;  and  it  was  one 
such  Reginald  Trevor  saw  torn  into  scraps  on  tie 
porch  of  Hollymead  House. 

This  same  Sir  John  was  what  Scotchmen  would 
call  a  "  canny  chiel.'*  Courtier,  and  private  secre- 
\.:^x^  to  the    Queen,  he  had  coniQ  in   for  a  goodly 


96  NO  QUARTER  1 

share  of  pilferings  from  the  public  purse ;  among 
other  jobs  having  been  endowed  with  the  steward- 
ship of  the  Forest  of  Dean,  with  all  its  privileges 
and  perquisites.  Appointed  one  of  the  Commis- 
sioners of  Array  for  West  Gloucestershire,  he  had 
built  him  a  large  mansion  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Lydney— the  White  House  as  called — though  it 
is  not  there  now,  he  with  his  own  hand  having 
afterwards  set  the  torch  to  it  But  then,  on  the 
clearing  out  of  the  Court  from  London,  Sir  John 
had  cleared  out  too,  going  to  his  country  residence 
by  Severn's  side,  which  he  at  once  set  about 
placing  in  a  state  of  defence.  None  more  clearly 
than  he  foresaw  the  coming,  storm. 

It  seemed  to  him  near  now  when  Reginald 
Trevor  returned  to  the  White  House  and  reported 
his  reception  at  Hollymead,  with  the  defiant  mes- 
sage to  himself  and  his  King.  But  Sir  John  was 
not  a  man  of  hot  passions  or  hasty  resolves. 
Long  experience  as  a  courtier  had  taught  him  to 
subdue  his  temper,  or,  at  all  events,  the  exhibition 
of  it.  So,  instead  of  bursting  forth  into  a  furious 
display,  he  quietly  observed, — 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself,  Captain  Trevor,  about 
what  Ambrose  Powell  has  said  or  done.  It  won't 
help  his  case  any.  But,"  he  added  reflectingly, 
"there  seems  no  particular  call  for  haste  in  this 
business.  Besides,  Vm  expecting  an  addition  to 
the  strength  of  our  little  garrison.  To-morrow,  or 
it  may  be  the  day  after,  we  shall  have  with  us  a 
man,  if  I  mistake  not,  known  to  you." 

"  Who,  Sir  John  ?  " 

"  Colonel  Thomas  Lunsford." 

"Oh  !  certainly ;  I  know  Lunsford  well.  He  was 
my  superior  officer  in  the  northern  expedition/* 

"  Ah !  yes ;  now  I  remember.  Well ;  I  have 
word  of  his  being  en  route  hither  with  some  stanch 


XbOKlNG  FORWARD   TO  A  FIGHT.  97 

WoIlowCiSc  When  he  has  reported  himself,  allow- 
ing a  day  or  two  for  rest,  we'll  beat  up  the 
quarters  of  this  recusant,  and  make  him  repent  his 
seditious  speech.  As  for  the  money,  he  shall  pay 
that,  every  pound,  or  I'll  squeeze  it  out  of  him,  if 
there's  stock  on  the  Holly  mead  estate,  or  chattels 
in  his  house  worth  so  much." 

There  was  something  in  the  "  recusant's  **  house 
Reginald  Trevor  thought  worth  far  more — one  of 
the  recusant's  daughters.  Of  that,  however,  he 
made  no  mention.  To  speak  of  it  lay  not  in  the 
line  of  his  duties ;  and  even  thinking  of  it  was 
now  not  near  so  sweet  as  it  had  been  hitherto. 
Little  as  he  liked  Colonel  Lunsford,  he  would 
that  night  have  been  glad  of  him  for  a  boon 
companion — in  the  bowl  to  help  drown  the  bitter 
remembrance  of  his  ^dr^ritm^J^  ^f  the  preceding 
day. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A  HAWKING   PARTY. 

*  HOOHA-HA-HA-HA  !  " 

The  cry  of  the  falconer,  followed  by  a  whistle, 
as  the  hawks  were  unleashed  and  cast  off. 

Away  went  they,  jesses  trailing,  and  bells  tink- 
ling, in  buoyant  upward  flight.  For  the  heron  that 
had  risen  out  of  the  sedge,  intending  retreat  to 
its  heronry,  at  sight  of  the  enemy  after  it,  sud- 
denly changed  direction,  and  was  now  making  for 
upper  air  with  all  its  might  of  wing. 

The  hawks  were  a  cast  of  **  peregrines "  of  the 
best  strain.  In  perfect  training,  it  needed  no  re- 
petition of  the  hooha-ha-ha-ha  to  encourage  them ; 
for,  as  soon  as  their  hoods  were  off,  they  had 
sighted  the  enemy,  and  shot  like  arrows  after  it. 

At  first  their  flight  was  direct — a  raking  off- — 
but  in  drawing  nearer  the  doomed  bird  it 
changed  to  gyrations  as  they  essayed  to  mount 
above  it.  The  heron,  in  a  phrenzy  of  fright, 
uttered  its  harsh  "  craigh,'*  disgorged  the  contents 
of  its  crop,  with  a  view  of  lightening  itself,  and 
made  a  fresh  effort  to  escape  skyward.  In  vain ! 
The  falcons,  with  quicker  stroke  of  wing,  notwith- 
standing their  spiral  course,  were  soon  seen  soaring 
over  it.  Then  the  foremost — for  one  was  ahead — 
having  gained  the  proper  height,  with  spread 
**  train."  and  quivering  *' sails,"  poised  herself  for 
the     "  stoopy        Only      a      second  ;      then      down 

98 


A   HAWKING   PARTY.  99 

swooped  she  at  the  quarry,  "  arm  '*  outstretched 
and   "  pounces "   set  for  raking  it. 

The  attennpt  was  unsuccessful.  Rarely  is  heron 
touched  at  the  first  stoop.  Unwieldy,  and  sluggish 
of  flight  as  the  creature  may  appear,  it  has  a  won- 
derful capacity  for  quickly  turning,  and  can  long 
elude  hawk  or  falcon,  if  there  be  but  one.  When 
doubly  assailed,  however,  by  a  cast^  of  trained  pere- 
grines, it  is  at  a  disadvantage,  not  having  time  to 
recover  itself  from  the  stoop  of  the  one  till  the 
other  is  upon  it 

-So  was  it  with  this.  In  an  instant  after,  the 
second  shot  down  upon  it  with  a  squeal,  the  heron 
again  giving  out  its  "craigh,"  and  then  the  two, 
hawk  and  heron,  were  seen  clinging  together.  For 
this  time  the  bird  of  prey  had  not  attempted  to 
rake  but  bind ;  and  bound  were  they,  the  pounces 
of  the  falcon  stuck  fast  in  the  flesh  of  its  victim. 
Then  followed  a  convulsive  flapping  of  wings,  the 
two  pairs  beating  against  one  another,  soon  to  be 
joined  by  a  third  ;  for,  meanwhile,  the  first  falcon 
having  soared  up  again,  once  more  poised  herself 
and  stooped,  she  also  binding  to  the  common 
quarry. 

The  aerial  chase  was  now  at  an  end,  but  not  the 
combat.  Unequal  as  this  was,  the  heron  still  lived ; 
and,  when  the  three  should  come  to  earth,  might 
impale  either  or  both  its  adversaries  on  that  long 
lance-like  beak  it  but  unskilfully  wields  in  the  air. 
To  prevent  this,  the  falconer  hurried  off  for  the 
spot  towards  which  they  were  descending.  Slowly 
they  came  down,  upheld  by  the  united  fluttering 
of  their  wings,  but  reached  the  ground  at  length, 
luckily  not  far  off.  And  when  the  falconer  got  up 
he  gave  out  a  loud  "  whoop,"  signal  of  the  quarry 
killed.  For  he  saw  that  the  heron  was  dead,  and  the 
peregrines  had  already  con^menced  depluming  it 


100  NO   QUARTER  ! 

Other  voices  joined  in  the  pcean  of  triumph ;  one 
of  sweet,  silver  tones,  accompanied  by  the  clapping 
of  a  pair  of  pretty  hands.  They  were  the  same 
voice  and  hands  that  on  the  top  of  Ruardean  Hill 
had  hounded  on  the  dog  Hector  in  his  half-playful 
demonstration  against  the  donkey. 

"  I  knew  my  pair  of  *  Pers '  would  do  it  in  good 
style ! "  cried  Vaga  in  exultation,  for  she  was  the 
owner  of  the  peregrines.  "Did  any  of  you  ever 
see  a  kill  quicker  than  that?'* 

The  interrogatory  was  put  to  a  trio  of  individuals 
beside  her,  on  horseback  as  herself — one  of  them 
her  sister,  the  other  two  Sir  Richard  Walwyn  and 
Eustace  Trevor.  There  was  an  entourage  of 
attendants,  the  falconer  with  his  helps,  mounted 
grooms,  and  dogs  quartering  the  sedge — in  short, 
a  complete  hawking  party  from  Hollymead  House. 
For,  notwithstanding  his  gentle  inclinings,  Am- 
brose Powell  was  no  foe  to  field  sports — rather 
favoured  them  when  not  unnecessarily  cruel  ;  and, 
though  rarely  indulging  in  them  himself,  put  no 
restraint  on  his  daughters'  doing  so.  The  younger 
was  passionately  fond  of  hawking,  and  the  elder 
also  relished  it  in  a  more  sober  way — it  being 
then  regarded  as  a  proper  pastime  for  ladies. 

The  hawking  party,  whose  incidents  we  are 
chronicling,  came  off  some  ten  days  after  the 
arrival  of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn  and  Eustace  at 
Hollymead ;  the  scene  being  a  strip  of  marsh 
with  a  stream  filtering  through  it,  here  and  there 
a  pool  where  the  moor-hen  coquettishly  flirted  her 
tail — a  favourite  haunt  of  the  heron,  as  of  teals, 
widgeons,  and  wild  ducks.  That  the  knight  was 
still  sojourning  at  Hollymead  House  need  be  nq 
matter  of  surprise  ;  but  why  the  son  of  Sir  William 
Trevor  had  not  long  ere  this  reported  himself 
under    the    parental    roof,   by    Abergavenny,    may 


A  HAWKING  PART^\  101 

seem  a  very  puzzle.  Its  explanation  mu' t  ^  await 
the  record  of  after  events;  ;Xhpu^li;\ai|r'iqcident 
occurring  there -and  then,  with' Ispe^ecli  tha£''dc€OF4>^\ 
panied,  may  throw  some  h'ght  upon  it. 

Vaga's  question  was  rather  in  the  way  of  an 
exclamation,  to  which  she  did  not  expect  reply. 
Neither  waited  for  it ;  but  giving  the  whip  to  her 
palfrey  trotted  off  to  where  the  falconer  was  en- 
gaged in  releasing  the  dead  heron  from  the  pounces 
of  the  hawks.  She  went  not  alone,  however ; 
Eustace  Trevor  having  pricked  his  animal  with 
the  spur,  and  started  after,  soon  overtaking  her. 
The  other  pair  stayed  behind  as  they  were. 

A  hundred  yards  or  so  round  the  edge  of  the 
marsh,  and  the  two  who  had  ridden  off  came  to 
a  halt.  For,  by  this,  the  falconer  having  rehooded 
the  hawks,  and  retrieved  the  quarry,  met  them, 
heron  in  hand,  holding  it  out  to  his  mistress  ;  as 
would  one,  first  up  at  the  death  of  a  fox,  present 
Reynard's  brush  to  some  dashing  Diana  of  the 
field. 

A  splendid  bird  it  was  ;  the  white  heron  or  great 
egret,  a  rare  species .  even  then,  though  not  so  rare 
as  now. 

"Give  it  to  the  pers.  Van  Dorn !  "  she  directed, 
after  a  short  survey  of  it ;  despite  its  rarity,  show- 
ing less  interest  in  it  than  under  other  circum- 
stances she  might  have  done.  **  Unhood  again, 
and  let  them  have  it.  We  forgot  to  bring  the 
doves  for  them,  and  they  deserve  reward  for  the 
way  they   both  bound  it — so  cleverly." 

Van  Dorn, .  a  Hollander  from  Falconswaerd — 
whence  in  those  days  all  falconers  came — bowing, 
proceeded  to  execute  the  command,  by  removing 
their  hoods  from  the  hawks. 

"Before  he  surrenders  it  to  their  tender  mercies, 
may  I  ask  a  favour  ?  " 


iOi  NO  QUARTER  I 

It  was  Eustace,,  Trev^or  who  interrogated,  address- 
ing himself  to  the  young  lady. 
./'.Gf-icourse  you  may.     What  is  it,  sir  ?" 

*'  Leave  to  appropriate  a  few  of  the  heron's 
feathers." 

"  Why,  certainly !  The  falconer  will  pluck  them 
for  you.  Van  Dorn,  pull  out  some  of  its  feathers, 
and  hand  them  to  this  gentleman.  I  suppose  you 
mean  those  over  the  train,  Mr.  Trevor?*' 

"  Yes,  they." 

"You  hear,  Van   Dorn." 

Without  that  the  man  knew  what  was  wanted; 
the  loose  tail  coverts  so  much  prized  for  plumes ; 
and,  drawing  them  out  one  by  one,  he  bound  them 
into  a  bunch  with  a  piece  of  cord  whipped  round 
their  shanks ;  then  handed  them  up  to  the 
cavalier.  After  which  he  went  off  to  attend  upon 
his  hawks. 

There  was  a  short  interregnum  of  silence  as  the 
falconer  turned  his  back  on  them,  and  till  he  was 
out  of  earshot.  Then  the  young  lady  asked,  with 
apparent  artlessness, — 

"  But,  Mr.  Trevor,  what  do  you  intend  doing 
with  the  heron's  feathers  ^ " 

**  Pluming  my  hat  with  them." 

"Why,  it's  plumed  already!  and  by  far  showier 
ones !  " 

"  Showier  they  may  be ;  but  not  prettier,  nor  so 
becoming.  And  certainly  not  to  be  esteemed  as 
these  ;  which  I  shall  wear  as  souvenir  of  a  pleas- 
ant time — the  pleasantest  of  my  life." 

There  was  a  pleased  expression  in  her  eyes  as  she 
listened  to  what  he  said  ;  still  more  when  she  saw 
what  he  did.  This,  to  whip  the  hat  from  his  head, 
pluck  the  panache  of  ostrich  feathers  from  its 
aigrette  and  insert  those  of  the  heron  in  their 
place.     Something  he  did   further"  seemed  also  to 


A  HAWKING  PARTY.  IO3 

give  her  gratification,  though  she  artfully  concealed 
it.  Reproach  on  her  lips,  but  delight  in  her  heart, 
as  she  saw  him  tear  the  displaced  plume  into 
shreds,  and  toss  them  to  the  ground  at  his  horse's 
feet. 

"How  wasteful  you  are,  Mr.  Trevor!"  she  ex- 
claimed, reprovingly.  "Those  foreign  feathers 
must  have  cost  a  great  deal  of  money.  What's 
worse,  you've  spoiled  the  look  of  your  hat !  Besides, 
you  forget  that  those  now  on  it  came  from  a  con- 
quered bird  ? " 

"All  the  more  appropriate  for  a  plume  to  be 
worn  by  me." 

"Why  so,  sir?" 

"  Because  of  my  being   vanquished,  too." 

"  You  vanquished,  Mr.  Trevor !  When  ?  where } 
By  whom  ? "  she  asked,  at  the  same  tinie  mentally 
interrogating  herself.  Could  he  be  alluding  to  that 
combat  in  which  he  received  the  wound  brought 
with  him  to  Hollymead,  the  story  of  which  had 
leaked  out,  though  not  told  by  either  combatant. 
Or,    was   he  hinting  at    conquest  of  another  kind  } 

There  was  an  indescribable  expression  on  her 
countenance  as  she  sat  awaiting  his  answer — keen 
anxiety,  ill-concealed  under  an  air  of  pretended 
artlessness. 

"Vagal" 

It  was  not  he  who  pronounced  her  name  ; 
though  "Vaga,"  with  "Powell"  adjoined,  were 
the  words  nearest  to  his  lips.  She  would  have 
given  the  world  to  hear  him  speak  them.  But  it 
could  not  be  then.  Her  .sister  had  called  to  her, 
at  that  moment  approaching  with  Sir  Richard. 
Most  ill-timed  approach,  for  it  interrupted  a 
dialogue  which,  allowed  to  continue,  might,  and 
likely  would,  have  ended  in  declarations  of  loy^-^ 
concessions  full  and  mutiJial, 


CHAPTER   XV. 

•dear  little  mer.* 

*TURN  and  turn,  sister,"  said  Sabrina,  as  she  rode 
up.  "  You've  had  sport  enough  with  your  great 
eagles.  Suppose  we  go  up  to  the  hill,  and  give 
my  dear  little  Mer  a  cast  off?" 

**Dear  little  Mer"  was  a  merlin,  that  sate 
perched  on  her  left  wrist,  in  size  to  the  peregrines 
as  a  bantam  cock  to  the  biggest  of  chanticleers. 
Withal  a  true  falcon,  and  game  as  the  gamest  of 
them. 

Why  its  mistress  proposed  changing  the  scene 
of  their  sport  was  that  no  larks  nor  buntings — the 
merlin's  special  quarry — were  to  be  met  with  by 
the  marsh.  Their  habitat  was  higher  up  on  the 
ridge,  where  there  was  a  tract  bare  of  trees — part 
pasture,  part  fallow. 

To  her  sister's  very  reasonable  request  Vaga  did 
not  give  the  readiest  assent.  The  petted  young 
lady  looked,  and  likely  felt,  some  little  vexed  at 
her  tete-a-tete  with  Eustace  Trevor  having  been  so 
abruptly  brought  to  an  end.  It  had  promised  to 
make  that  spot — amid  reeds  and  rushes  though  it 
was — hallowed  to  her,  as  another  on  the  summit 
of  a  certain  hill,  among  hazels  and  hollies,  had 
been  made  to  her  sister.  Whatever  her  thoughts, 
she  showed  reluctance  to  ^eave  the  low  ground, 
saying  in  rejoinder, — 

«04 


"DEAR   LITTLE   MER."  IO5 

"Oh!  certainly,  Sab.  But  won't  you  wait  till 
the  dogs  have  finished  beating  the  sedge?" 

"If  you  wish  it,  of  course.  But  you  don't  ex- 
pect them  to  find  another  heron  ? " 

"  No ;  but  there  may  be  a  widgeon  or  wild 
duck.  After  such  an  easy  victory,  Tm  sure  my 
pers  would  like  to  have  another  flight.  See  how 
they  chafe  at  their  hoods  and  pull  upon  the 
jesses !  Ah,  my  beauties !  you  want  to  hear  the 
hooha-ha-ha-ha  again — that  do  you." 

"  Oh !  let  them,  then,"  said  the  more  compliant 
Sabrina,  "  if  the  dogs  put  up  anything  worth 
flying  them  at  ;  which  I  doubt  their  doing.  WeVe 
made  too  much  noise  for  that." 

The  conjecture  of  the  sage  sister  proved  correct. 
For  the  marsh,  quartered  to  its  remotest  corners, 
yielded  neither  widgeons  nor  wild  ducks ;  only 
moor-hens  and  water-rails — quarry  too  contemp- 
tible to  fly  the  great  falcons  at. 

"  Now,"  said  Sabrina,  "  I  suppose  you'll  consent 
to  the  climbing.?" 

Her  motto  might  have  been  Excelsior ;  she 
seemed  always  urging  an  uphill  movement. 

But  there  was  no  longer  any  objection  made  to 
it ;  and  the  canines  being  called  out  of  the  sedge, 
all  entered  the  forest,  riders  and  followers  afoot, 
and  commenced  winding  by  a  wood-path  up  the 
steep  acclivity  of  Ruardean's  ridge. 

When  upon  its  crest,  which  they  soon  after 
reached,  the  grand  panorama  already  spoken  of 
lay  spread  before  their  eyes.  For  they  were  on 
the  same  spot  from  which  the  young  ladies  had 
viewed  it  that  day  when  Hector  harassed  the 
donkey.  Neither  of  them  bestowed  a  look  upon 
it  now ;  nor  did  Sabrina  even  glance  at  that  road 
winding  down  from  the  Wilderness,  off  which  on 
the  former  occasion  she  had   been  unable   to  take 


io6  NO  quarter! 

her  eyes.  Its  interest  for  her  no  longer  had  exist- 
ence ;  he  who  had  invested  it  with  such  being  by 
her  side.  Now  she  but  thought  of  showing  off  the 
capabilities  of  "dear  little  Mer,"  as  in  fondness  she 
was  accustomed  to  call  the  diminutive  specimen 
of  the  falconidce. 

Ere  long  Mer  made  exhibition  of  her  high 
strain  and  training — for  the  little  falcon  was  also 
a  female — sufficient  to  prove  herself  neither  tercel 
nor  haggard.  First  she  raked  down  a  lark,  then 
a  corn  bunting  ;  and  at  the  third  cast-off  overtook 
and  bound  on  to  a  turtle-dove,  big  as  herself.  For 
all  she  speedily  brought  it  to  the  earth,  there  in- 
stantly killing  it. 

Just  as  she  had  brought  this  quarry  to  ground 
a  cry  was  heard,  which  caused  interruption  of  the 
sport, — 

«  Soldiers !  " 

It  was  the  falconer  who  so  exclaimed  ;  for  now 
that  they  were  merlin-flying  his  services  were 
scarce  required,  and  one  of  his  aids  did  the 
whistling  and  whooping.  Left  at  leisure  to  look 
around,  his  eyes  had  strayed  up  the  road  beyond 
Dry  brook,  there  to  see  what  had  called  forth  his 
cry. 

Instantly  all  other  eyes  went  the  same  way, 
more  than"  one  voice  muttering  in  confirmation,^ — 

"  Yes  ;  they're  soldiers.'* 

This  was  evident  from  their  uniformity  of  dress 
— all  alike,  or  nearly — as  also  by  the  glancing  of 
arms  and  accoutrements.  Moreover,  they  were  in 
military  formation,  riding  in  file,  "by  twos" — for 
they  were  on  horseback. 

At  sight  of  them  all  thoughts  of  sport  were  at 
an  end,  and  the  hawking  was  instantly  discon- 
tinued. Mer,  lured  back  to  her  mistress's  wrist, 
was  once  more  hooded,  and  the  leash  run  through 


•dear  little  mer,"  107 

the  varvels  of  her  jesses  ;  while  the  falconer  and 
his  helps,  with  the  other  attendants,  gathered  into 
a  group  preparatory  to  leaving  the  field. 

Meanwhile,  by  no  accident,  but  evidently  from 
previous  understanding,  Sir  Richard  Walwin  and 
Eustace  Trevor  had  drawn  their  horses  together, 
at  some  distance  from  the  spot  occupied  by  the 
ladies,  the  knight  saying,— 

"  It's  Wintour's  troop  from  Lydney,  I  take  it. 
What  do  you  think.  Master  Trevor  ?  " 

•^  The  same  as  yourself.  Nay,  more,  I'm  sure  of 
it,  now.  That's  my  cousin  Rej  at  their  head,  on 
the  grey  mare,  with  the  red  feathers  in  his  hat. 
You  remember  them  }  " 

.  **  I  do.  You're  right ;  'tis  he.  Somebody  beside 
him,  though,  who  appears  to  be  in  command. 
Don't  you  see  him  turn  in  his  saddle,  as  though 
calling  back  orders  ?  " 

^"Yes,  yes;"  was  the  repetitive  rejoinder,  Eus- 
tace Trevor,  despite  his  late  sojourn  at  Court,  still 
retaining  some  of  the  idiomatic  forms  of  Welsh 
colloquy.  "  But  who  are  those  in  the  rear  ? "  he 
added,  interrogatively. 

His  question  had  reference  to  a  number  of  men 
afoot,  neither  in  uniform  nor  formation,  who  were 
seen  coming  behind  the  horse  troop,  pressing 
close  upon  its  heels.  Women  among  them,  too, 
as  could  be  told  by  the  brighter  hues  and  looser 
draping  of  their  dresses. 

*'  People  from  Mitcheldean,"  answered  Sir  Rich- 
ard, *' following  the  troop  out  of  curiosity,  no 
doubt." 

The  knight  knew  better ;  knew  that,  but  for 
himself,  and  some  action  he  had  lately  taken,  the 
people  spoken  of,  or  at  least  the  majority  of  them, 
would  not  have  been  there.  For,  since  his  arrival 
at  HoUymead,  he  had  made  many  excursions  un- 


io8  NO  quarter! 

accompanied — save  by  his  henchman,  Hubert — to 
Mitcheldean,  Coleford,  and  other  Forest  centres, 
where  he  had  held  converse  with  many  people — 
spoken  words  of  freedom,  which  had  found  ready 
and  assenting  response.  Therefore,  as  he  now 
gazed  at  that  crowd  of  civilians  coming  on  after 
the  soldiers,  though  his  glance  was  one  of  inquiry, 
it  was  not  as  to  who  they  were  who  composed  it, 
but  to  make  estimate  of  their  numbers,  at  the 
same  time  comparing  it  with  the  strength  of  the 
troop. 

There  was  no  time  left  him  to  arrive  at  any 
exactitude.  The  horsemen  wei-e  on  the  way  to 
Hollymead,  for  sure  ;  and  he  must  needs  be  there 
before — long  before  them. 

So  the  hawking  party  made  no  longer  stay  on 
Ruardean  Hill,  but  a  start  and  return  homeward — 
so  rapid  as  to  seem  retreat ;  the  understrappers 
and  other  attendants  wondering  why  it  was  so— 
all  save  Hubert. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

TROUBLE  ANTICIPATED 

On  retmn  for  Hollymead,  the  hawking-party  did 
not  pass  through  Ruardean,  as  it  would  have  been 
round  about.  Nevertheless,  Sir  Richard  went  that 
way.  At  a  forking  of  the  forest  paths  the  knight 
excused  himself  to  the  ladies,  leaving  Eustace 
Trevor  to  escort  them  home ;  he,  with  his  own 
servant,  turning  off  towards  the  village. 

Some  matter  of  importance  must  have  influenced 
him  to  deviate  from  the  direct  route ;  and  that 
It  was  pressing  might  be  deduced  from  the  speed 
to  which  he  put  his  horse.  Soon  as  parted  from 
the  others,  he  and  Hubert  made  free  use  of  their 
spurs,  going  in  reckless  gallop  down  the  steepest 
pitclies,  nor  drawing  bridle  till  they  had  reached 
Ruardean.  A  small  place  then  as  now,  of  some 
two  hundred  houses,  contiguous  to  a  fine  old 
church,  and  ancient  hostelry  opposite,  the  streets 
all  declivities,  with  some  scattered  dwellings  that 
radiated  off  into  quaint  nooks  and  by-ways. 

The  clattering  of  hoofs  had  brought  faces  to 
every  window,  and  figures  into  every  door ;  for 
this  had  been  heard  long  before  the  two  horsemen 
made  their  appearance.  And  now,  as  these  came 
^^  a  halt  in  front  of  the  inn,  their  horses  breath- 
ing  hard,  all  eyes  were  bent  upon  them  with  in- 
quiring curiosity. 

109 


no  NO  QUARTER  1 

"Wind  your  horn,  Hubert!"  commanded  the 
knight,  in  an  undertone,  without  waiting  for  any 
one  to  come  up  to  them. 

A  command  which  Hubert  instantly  obeyed  by 
drawing  a  small  cornet  from  under  his  doublet, 
clapping  it  to  his  lips,  and  sounding  the  "  As- 
sembly." He  had  been  troop-trumpeter  in  "the 
army  that  swore  so  terribly  in  Flanders,"  and  so 
understood  the  cavalry  calls. 

No  cavalry,  however,  answered  this  one,  nor 
soldiers  of  any  arm  •;  though  it  was  answered  by 
what  looked  the  right  material  for  making  soldiers. 
Before  the  cornet's  notes  had  ceased  reverberating 
from  the  tower  of  the  church,  and  the  walls  of  the 
old  castle — then  in  ruins — men  could  be  seen  issu- 
ing from  the  doors  of  the  nearer  houses,  others 
hastening  along  the  lanes  from  those  more  remote, 
all  making  for  the  spot  where  the  horsemen  were 
halted. 

In  a  few  seconds  nearly  twenty  had  gathered. 
up  and  grouped  around  the  horses  ;  the  expression 
on  their  faces  showing  that  they  understood  the 
signal  in  a  general  way,  but  not  the  reason  for  its 
having  been  sounded  to  summon  them  just  then. 
All  looked  inquiry,  one  putting  it  in  the  form  of 
speech  — —  '"' 

"What  belt.  Sir  Richard.?" 

He  who  interrogated  was  a  man  of  gigantic  size, 
inches  taller  than  any  of  the  others.  But  some- 
thing more  than  his  superior  stature  privileged  him 
to  be  first  spokesman,  as  could  be  deduced  from 
Sir  Richard's  answer. 

"A  troop  coming  from  Lydney,  Rob.  They're 
through  Drybrook  by  this,  making  for  Hollymead. 
You  and  your  friends  will,  no  doubt,  be  there,  too, 
curious  to  see  how  the  soldiers  behave  them- 
selves ? " 


TROUBLE  ANTICIPATED.  II  i 

"We'll  be  there,  sure,  Sir  Richard.  Rob  Wilde 
for  one,  an'  belikes  a  good  many  more." 

*'  So  well,"  rejoined  the  kniglit,  with  a  satisfied 
look.  Then  leaning  over  on  his  saddle  he  whis- 
pered some  words  of  a  confidential  character  into 
the  ear  of  the  deer-stealer.  After  which,  setting 
himself  straight  in  the  stirrups,  he  again  set  his 
horse  into  a  gallop,  and  rode  out  of  the  village  as 
rapidly  as  he  had  entered  it. 

*  *  *  *  * 

"  I  hear  they're  coming,  Sir  Richard  ? " 

"  They  are,  Mr.  Powell.  By  all  signs,  it's  .the 
party  you've  been  expecting.  Indeed,  there  can  be 
no  doubt  about  its  being  Wintour's  troop.  One  of 
the  officers  at  its  head  we  made  out  to  be  Master 
Trevor's  cousin,  as  you've  heard,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Oh,  yes.  And  of  their  purpose  there  can  be  as 
little  doubt — to  levy  for  that  ;^3,ooo  the  King 
facetiously  terms  loa7i.  A  downright'  robbery,  I 
call  it." 

"I  too." 

**What  ought  I  to  do.  Sir  Richard?  I  have 
the  money  in  the  house,  and  suppose  I  must  give 
it  to  them.     But  if  you  say  the  word,  I'll  refuse." 

"  Let  me  leave  the  word  unsaid  till  I  see  what 
sort  of  following  is  after  them.  There  appeared  to 
be  a  good  many  from  Mitcheldean,  likely  to  be 
joined  by  more  at  Drybrook,  to  say  nothing  of 
the  contingent  from  nearer  home.  Everything  must 
depend  on  their  numbers  and  the  spirit  we  find 
them  in." 

"I  understand,"  said  the  other,  with  an  assent- 
ing nod,  "and  will  trust  all  to  you." 

This  brief  dialogue  was  at  the  door  of  Holly- 
mead  House,  its  owner  standing  in  the  porch.  Sir 
Richard  still  on  horseback,  just  arrived  from  that 
passage    at    courier-speed    through    Ruardean.      It 


112  NO  quarter! 

ended  by  his  dismounting  and  giving  his  horse  to 
Hubert,  with  directions  to  take  both  their  animals 
round  to  the  stable-yard,  and  there  keep  them 
under  saddle  and  bridle.  Some  other  instructions 
were  delivered  to  the  same  sotto  voce.  Then  to 
the  symphony  of  clanking  spurs  the  knight  as- 
cended to  the  porch ;  and  after  a  few  more  words 
exchanged  with  the  master  of  the  house,  he  passed 
on  into  the  withdrawing- room. 

His  entrance  was  a  welcome  intrusion,  as  the 
company  inside  consisted  of  the  awkward  number 
three. 

And  soon  they  paired,  each  pair  passing  into 
the  embayment  of  a  window,  and  there  taking 
stand.  Not  to  talk  of  love,  or  even  think  of  it  ; 
though  something  equally  serious  occupied  their 
thoughts — something  less  agreeable.  All  were  alike 
imbued  with  an  instinct  of  danger  drawing  nigh, 
and  so  close,  their  eyes  were  now  on  the  alert,  ap- 
prehensively gazing  down  the  oak-shadowed  avenue. 

A  few  seconds  more  and  they  saw  what  they 
were  expecting — horses,  plumed  hats,  and  the 
glancing  of  armour — a  troop  outside  the  park  gate 
halted  till  its  fastenings  could  be  undone.  In  an 
instant  it  was  dashed  open,  and  soldiers  seen 
filing  through — the  same  as  they  had  descried  on 
the  hill  beyond  Drybrook. 

On  came  they  up  the  avenue,  without  making 
stop  till  within  fifty  yards  of  the  house,  where 
they  were  again  brought  up  at  the  entrance  to  the 
ornamental  grounds.  These  were  enclosed  by  a 
hawhaw ;  the  causeway  which  crossed  it  having  a 
gate  also.  And  while  this  was  being  got  open  all 
four  looking  from  the  windows  had  now  no  diffi- 
culty in  identifying  Reginald  Trevor  in  one  of 
the  officers  at  the  head  of  the  troop  ;  while  two  of 
them  at  the  same  time  recognised  the  other. 


TROUBLE  ANTICIPATED.  II3 

•*Why,  bless  me!"  exclaimed  the  ex-gentleman 
usher,  "  that's  Colonel  Lunsford." 

'*  As  I  live,  Tom  Lunsford  !  '*  was  the  almost 
simultaneous  exclamation  of  the  knight. 

"  Colonel  Lunsford  ?  "  interrogated  Vaga,  address- 
ing herself  to  him  by  her  side. 

"  Tom  Lunsford  ? "  in  like  manner  questioned 
Sabrina,  but  with  more  earnestness  as  she  saw  Sir 
Richard's  brow  suddenly  darken.  "Who  and  what 
is  he  >  " 

"One  of  the  most  notorious — but  never  mind, 
now.  By-and-by  we'll  talk  of  him.  Like  enough 
he'll  favour  us  with  a  taste  of  his  quality  before 
leaving  Hollymead.  But,"  he  added,  the  cloud 
upon  his  brow  becoming  darker,  "if "he  do ,* 

The  knight  did  not  finish  what  was  evide  ntly 
intended  to  be  a  threat,  partly  because  he  saw  fear 
coming  over  the  face  of  his  betrothed,  and  partly 
that  the  man  for  whom  his  menace  was  meant  had 
got  through  the  gate,  and,  with  Reginald  Trevor 
by  his  side,  and  the  soldiers  filing  in  behind  them, 
was  now  close  up  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

NEW  FACES    AND    OLD    FOES. 

While  Colonel  Lunsford  and  Captain  Trevor  were 
waiting  for  the  hawhaw  gate  to  be  opened,  they 
had  seen  the  figures  of  two  ladies  outlined  in  the 
withdrawing-room  windows — one  in  each.  As  yet 
the  two  gentlemen  were  not  visible  to  them  ;  these 
being  behind  and  half-hidden  by  the  arras  curtains. 
As  the  officers  came  closer,  with  eyes  still  upon 
the  windows,  those  of  Lunsford,  after  a  hasty 
glance  at  Vaga,  remained  fixed  upon  Sabrina  in 
steadfast,  earnest  gaze,  as  on  one  for  the  first 
time  seen,  but  eliciting  instant  admiration. 

Trevor  had  eyes  only  for  the  younger  of  the 
sisters,  his  thoughts  going  back  to  the  last  time 
he  had  been  there.  He  remembered  it  with  bitter- 
ness, for  he  had  fancied  himself  slighted ;  and,  if 
so,  the  time  had  come  for  retaliation. 

"  What  a  beautiful  woman !  By  the  Cestus  of 
Venus,  a  Venus  herself!  " 

It  was  the  ex-Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  who  thus 
exclaimed. 

"Which?"  queried  Reginald  Trevor,  with  more 
than  common  interest.  Well  knew  he  the  flagi- 
tious character  of  the  man  who  was  once  more 
his  commanding  officer. 

"  Which  ?  What  a  superfluous  question  !  The 
tall — the  dark  one — of  course.  Yellow-hair  isn't  to 
be  compared  with  her  for  a  moment." 


NEW  FACES  AND  OLD  FOES.  tiS 

**  Perhaps  not,"  rejoined  Trevor,  pretending  assent, 
glad  to  think  his  military  superior  was  not  Hkely 
to  be  his  rival  in  love, 

"  Certes,  both  seem  beauties  in  their  different 
styles,"  ran  on  the  reprobate.  *'  Who*d  ever  have^ 
expected  such  a  pair  in  this  out-of-the-way  corner 
of  creation  ?  I  wish  Sir  John  had  given  us  orders 
to  take  up  quarters  in  Hollymead  House  for  a  week 
or  two.     That  may  come  yet  when the  devil  !  " 

His  final  ejaculation  had  nought  to  do  with 
what  preceded.  The  mention  of  his  Satanic 
majesty  was  due  to  his  having  caught  sight  of  a 
face  behind  that  he  was  in  the  act  of  admiring, 
but^  the  face  of  a  man.  A  man  well  known  to 
him — one  he  hated,  yet  feared,  as  could  be  told 
by  the  scowl  instantly  overspreading  his  counten- 
ance,  along  with   a  whitening  of  the  lips. 

Nothing  of  this  observed  Reginald  Trevor,  whose 
features  changed  expression  at  the  same  time,  his 
thoughts  all  absorbed  in  what  he  saw  for  himselt 
— the  face  of  another  man  at  the  other  v/indow 
in  close  proximity  to  that  of  Vaga  Powell. 

"  Eustace  still  here !  What  the  deuce  can  that 
mean  ? " 

Both  exclamation  and  question  were  unspoken, 
'though  accompanied  by  a  sharp  pang  of  jealousy. 
Some  presentiment  of  this  he  had  felt  before,  on 
the  evening  when  he  met  his  handsome  cousin  at 
the  gate  of  Hollymead  Park,  going  on  to  the  house. 
And  here  was  Eustace  yet,  when  by  all  the  rules 
he  should  have  been  gone  days  ago,  standing  by 
the  girl's  side,  apparently  on  terms  of  the  most 
friendly  familiarity  ! 

He  was  not  permitted  to  see  them  side  by  side 
much  longer  ;  nor  Lunsford  the  other  pair.  For 
Sabrina,  becoming  indignant  at  the  bold  glances 
the    latter   was    directing    upon    her,   moved   away 


Il6  NO  QUARTER  1 

from   the  window,  Vaga  doing  the   same  ;  the  two 
finally  retiring  from  the  room. 

Another  change  of  tableaux  took  place  by  Sir 
Richard  appearing  at  the  window  occupied  by  the 
ex-gentleman  usher — which  was  that  nearest  the 
door — as  he  did,  saying, — 

"  Master  Trevor ;  I  want  you  to  be  witness — see 
and  hear  for  yourself  how  your  Cavaliers  and 
King's  officers  comport  themselves.  If  I  mistake 
not,  you'll  have  an  opportunity  now." 

In  the  words,  as  well  as  tone,  was  conveyed  an 
insinuation  which,  ten  days  before,  Eustace  Trevor 
would  have  resented  by  drawing  sword ;  all  the 
more  that  his  own  kinsman  came  in  for  a  share 
of  it.  He  had  no  thoughts  of  doing  so  now. 
Since  then  his  sentiments,  social  as  political,  had 
undergone  a  remarkable  change;  and  he  but 
answered  the  observation  by  pressing  in  to  the 
window,  till  his  face  almost  touched  the  glass. 

By  this  Lunsford  had  halted,  and  formed  his 
troop  from  flank  to  line,  fronting  the  house.  The 
movement  brought  the  cousins  face  to  face  at 
close  distance,  Eustace  bowing  in  a  frank,  familiar 
manner.  The  cold,  distant  nod  vouchsafed  in  * 
return  would  have  surprised  and  perplexed  him 
but  for  a  suspicion  of  the  cause.  His  own  con- 
science had  whispered  it. 

All  this  while  was  Ambrose  Powell  standing  in 
the  porch,  just  as  when  he  gave  reception  to 
Reginald  Trevor  delivering  that  letter  of  Privy 
Seal  so  O3ntemptuously  torn  up.  Nor  looked  he 
now  repentant  for  having  torn  it ;  instead,  defiant 
as  ever.  For  he  had  cast  his  eyes  over  and 
beyond  the  men  in  uniform,  taken  stock  of  those 
out  of  it,  compared  numbers,  and  made  mental 
estimate  of  the  chances  for  a  successful  resistance. 
A  word,  too,  had  reached  him  from  inside;  spoken 


NEW   FACES   AND  OLD  fOES.  11/ 

from  the  door  of  the  withdravving-room  by  Sir 
Richard  Walwyn.  So  that  when  Colonel  Lunsford 
approached,  in  the  swaggering  way  he  had  been 
accustomed  to  in  the  Low  Country,  he  was  met 
with  a  firm  front  and  look  of  calm  defiance.  It 
all  the  more  irritated  the  King's  officer,  thinking  of 
him  he  had  observed  inside  ;  and  with  the  soldiers 
at  his  back,  supposing  himself  master  of  the  situa- 
tion, all  the  more  determined  him  to  show  his  teeth. 

"  You  are  Ambrose  Powell,  I  take  it  ? "  were 
his  first  words,  spoken  without  even  the  ceremony 
of  a  salute,  as  he  brought  his  horse's  head 
between  the  supporting  columns  of  the  porch. 

"  Ambrose  Powell  I  am,  sir,'*  responded  the 
Master  of  Hollymead.  "  If  you  doubt  my  identity," 
he  added,  in  his  old  satirical  tone,  "  I  refer  you 
to  the  gentleman  by  your  side.  He  knows  me, 
if  I  mistake  not." 

This  was  a  shaft  shot  at  Reginald  Trevor, 
further  stinging  him,  too.  But  it  was  not  his  place 
to  reply  ;  and   he  bore  it  in   sullen  silence. 

"Oh!"  lightly  ejaculated  Lunsford,  "it  don't 
need  the  formality  of  Captain  Trevor's  endorsement. 
I'll  take  it  for  granted  you're   the  man  I  want." 

He  spoke  as  might  a  policeman  of  modern  days 
about  to  "run  in"  some  unfortunate  infringer  of 
the  laws. 

"  The  man  you  want !     And  pray  what  for  ? " 

"Only  to  pay  your  debts." 

"  Debts,  sirrah  !     I   have  no  debts." 

"Oh,  yes,  you  have.  And  right  well  you  know 
it,  Master  Powell.  Maybe  you'd  prefer  my  calling 
it  your  dues.     Be  it  so." 

"  Nor  dues,  neither ;  I  owe  no  one  anything." 

"  There  I  beg  leave  to  contradict  you.  You 
owe  the  King  three  thousand  poands ;  just  dues 
for  maintenance  of  the  State ;  your  share  of  Supply 


iiS  NO  quarter! 

for  its  necessary  expenses.  As  I  understand,  youVe 
been  asked  for  payment  already,  and  refused.  But 
now " 

"Now  I  do  the  same.  The  King  will  get  no 
three  thousand  pounds  from  me?" 

"  He  will." 

«  No— never !  " 

"  Yes,  now !  This  day  ;  this  very  hour.  If  you 
don't  give  it  willingly,  why  I  must  take  it  from 
you  ;  must  and  shall.  Possibly  you  haven't  so  much 
money  in  the  house.  No  matter  for  that.  We  can 
levy  on  your  plate,  of  which,  I'm  told,  youVe  got 
good  store— glad  to  know  it.  Tm  in  earnest,  Master 
Ambrose  Powell,  and  mean  what  I  say.  When  Tom 
Lunsford  has  a  duty  to  do,  he  does  it  So  make  no 
mistake ;  I'm  not  the  man  to  go  back  empty-handed." 

"  If  you  be  Tom  Lunsford,"  sneeringly  retorted 
the  Master  of  Hollymead,  "  not  likely.  IVe  heard 
of  you,  sir.  Robbers  as  you  rarely  leave  any 
place  empty-handed." 

"  Robbers ! "  cried  the  colonel,  now  furious. 
**How  dare  you  apply  such  epithet  to  me — an 
officer  of  the  King  ?  " 

"  I  dare  to  the  King's  self— if  he  stood  there 
beside  you." 

"A  curse  upon  you,  caitiff!  You  shall  rue  your 
rash  words.  Know,  sir,  that  I  have  the  power  to 
punish  sedition  as  recusancy.  But  I  won't  palter 
speech  with  you  any  longer.  Do  you  still  refuse 
to  lend   the  money — pay  it,   I  should   rather  say.?** 

"  Oh !  you  needn't  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
correct  yourself.  It's  a  demand  all  the  same.  The 
'stand  and  deliver'  of  a  highwayman.  But  you 
shall   have  an   answer.     I  still  refuse  it." 

"Then  it  shall  be  taken  from  you,  sirrah?** 

*  If  so,  sirrah,  'twill  be  under  protest." 

•* Under  protest  be  it.     As  you  like  about  that; 


Hew  faces  and  old  foes.  119 

devil  care  I.  Ha-ha-ha!"  and  Lunsford  laughed 
again.  Then  turning  to  the  troop,  he  called  out 
to  his  first  sergeant, — 

"  Dismount,  Robins,  and  follow  me  with  a  couple 
of  files ! '' 

Saying  which,  he  flung  himself  out  of  the  saddle, 
and   made  to  ascend  the  steps  of  the  porch. 

"You  don't  enter  my  house  by  an  open  door,*' 
cried  the  Master  of  Hollymead,  stepping  backward. 
"You'll  have  to  break  it  in  first,'*  he  added, 
gliding  into  the  hall-way,  dashing  the  door  to 
behind  him,  and  double-bolting  it  inside. 

Almost  immediately  after  strong  oaken  shutters, 
moved  by  invisible  hands,  were  seen  to  close  upon 
all  the  windows  of  the  lower  story,  till  Hollymead 
House  looked  as  though  its  inmates  had  suddenly 
and  mysteriously  abandoned  it 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 

"  RESIST  ! " 

In  his  defiant  refusal  the  Master  of  Hollymead,  as 
already  said,  had  received  encouragement  by  a 
word  spoken  from  the  withdrawing-room.  ^  It  was 
after  the  ladies  had  passed  out  of  it ;  Sir  Richard, 
who  had  followed  them  to  the  door,  simply  saying, 
"  Resist ! "  It  was  said  in  a  significant  tone 
though,  and  loud  enough  to  be  heard  by  him  who 
stood  in  the  porch.  For  the  knight  had  now 
made  up  his  mind  to  some  sort  of  action,  as  yet 
known  only  to  himself;  and  but  returned  to  the 
window  to  get  further  informed  of  the  chances  in 
favour  of  it. 

Judging  by  the  sparkle  of  his  eyes,  they  seemed 
satisfactory,  each  moment  becoming  more  so.  He 
had  already  taken  stock  of  the  soldier  troop, 
counted  its  files — less  than  twenty — saw  that  half 
of  them  were  but  *'  Johnny  Raws "  in  uniform ; 
while  the  crowd  beyond  them  numbered  nigh  two 
hundred.  Not  all  men  ;  but  such  women  as  were 
among  them  had  the  look  of  being  able  to  do 
man*s  work,  even  in  the  way  of  fighting.  Nor 
were  they  all  unarmed,  though  no  warlike  weapons 
were  conspicuously  displayed.  Here  and  there 
could  be  seen  hands  holding  hedge  forks,  or 
grasping  hatchets,  bill-hooks,  and  hay-knives  ; 
others  carrying  long -shafted  hammers  and 
mattocks — tools    of    the    mining    industry    peculiar 


"  RESIST  r*  121 

to  the  Forest.  All  implements  denoting  peace ; 
but  readily  convertible  into  weapons  with  which 
could  be  dealt  deadly  blows. 

Sir  Richard  had  taken  all  this  in,  as  the  soldiers 
came  to  a  halt  at  the  hawhaw  gate.  And  now 
that  they  were  inside  it,  looking  over  their  hea^s 
from  the  high  window,  he  saw  something  else,  for 
which  he  had  been  anxiously  watching — another 
crowd  on  its  way  up  the  avenue,  smaller  than 
that  already  arrived,  but  more  compact,  and 
apparently  under  discipline.  All  men  these,  with 
one  at  their  head,  taller  by  inches  than  any  of 
those  behind  him,  easily  recognisable  as  Rob 
Wilde. 

The  deer-stealer  had  been  true  to  his  promise, 
and  done  his  work  well ;  for  not  only  was  the 
Ruardean  contingent  a  large  one,  but  carried  real 
war  weapons  —  here  and  there  a  matchlock  and 
snap'hans,  with  pikes  and  halberds  held  high 
above   their   heads — a   bristling   array   of  them. 

It  was  just  then,  on  catching  sight  of  these, 
that  Ambrose  Powell  retreated  from  the  porch, 
and  in,  dashing  to  his  door.  For  Sir  Richard's 
doings  in  the  days  past  were  all  known  to  him, 
and  why  he  had  gone  out  of  his  way,  and  hngered 
behind  the  hawking  party  at  Ruardean. 

At  the  same  moment  the  knight  made  a  hasty 
movement  away  from  the  window,  as  he  did  so 
saying,— 

"  Now,  Master  Trevor  1  Time's  come  for  action. 
I'm  not  going  to  let  our  good  host  be  plundered 
without  an  effort  to  prevent  it.  Of  course  you 
can  do  as  you  like — remain  neutral  if  it  so  please 
you." 

"But  it  don't  so  please  me,"  promptly  responded 
the  ex-gentleman  usher,  ."  If  there's  to  be  fighting, 
I  draw  swords  too." 


t2i  NO  QUARTER  1 

**0n  which  side?" 

"Oh,  Sir  Richard!  Why  do  you  ask  that? 
After  what  I've  just  seen  and  heard,  you  might 
know.  Never  was  •  I  aware  that  J:he  King 
sanctioned  such  doings  as  these,  nor  will  I  be 
the  one  to  abet  them.  Besides,  you  seem  to 
forget  my  debt  to  yourself — my  life ;  and  I've 
been  longing  for  an  opportunity  to  pay  it.  My 
sword  is  at  your  service,  as  my  heart,  ever  since 
you  conquered   both." 

*' Eustace  Trevor!"  exclaimed  the  knight,  with 
more  than  ordinary  warmth,  "  I  now  know  that 
you  are  not  only  my  friend,  but  the  friend  of  our 
cause,  which  is  that  of  country  and  humanity. 
Your  generous  offer  of  alliance  delights  me,  and 
I  am  grateful  for  it.  But  all  the  more  reluctant 
you  should  compromise  yourself  with  your  father 
— your  people.  Reflect  before  drawing  you 
sword!  Among  those  we  are  to  fight  with — if 
it  come  to  that  —  is  your  own  kinsman,  your 
cousin,  and  you  may  have  to  cross  blades  with 
himr 

"Be  it  so.  I  have  reflected,  and  well,  before 
espousing  your  cause.  'Tis  now  more  to  me  than 
cousin — a  matter  of  conscience.  Reginald's  on 
the  wrong  side  —  I  the  right  one ;  and  if  we 
must  cross  swords,  let  him  take  the  consequences 
as  will  I.'' 

Not  often  in  man's  face  might  be  seen  such 
expression  as  came  over  that  of  Sir  Richard 
Walwyn  while  listening  to  these  determined 
words.  The  handsome  youth  he  had  made 
chance  acquaintance  with  on  the  road,  liking 
him  at  first  sight ;  continuing  to  like  him 
notwithstanding  their  adverse  political  faith  ; 
reluctant  to  quarrel  with  him ;  refusing  it  till 
there  was  no   alternative  with  honour — this  youth, 


"resist!"  123 

now  no  more  enemy  either  to  him  or  his  cause, 
but  friend  of  both,  professed  and  sure  of  proving 
^rue — at  thought  of  all  this  the  eyes  of  the  soldiei 
knight  sparkled  with  an  ecstatic  joy  which  they 
alone  can  feel  who  fight  for  country,  not  king. 

"  Enough ! "  he  said,  grasping  the  youth's  hand 
and  warmly  pressing  it.  '*  Glad  am  I  to  think 
you  will  be  with  us.  Sword  such  as  yours  were 
an  accession  to  any  cause ;  and  ere  long,  even 
now,  there  may  be  ^n  opportunity  for  you  to 
prove  it— baptise  your  new  faith  in  the  blood  of 
Freedom's  foes.      Come  with  me  !  '* 

Their  dialogue  had  occupied  but  a  brief 
interval  of  time ;  and  as  the  knight  brought 
it  to  an  end,  he  strode  hastily  out  into  the 
hall,  spurs  still  on  and  clanking.  There  to 
encounter  their  host,  also  hurrying  about,  and 
shouting  to  his  domestics  to  shutter  the  windows. 
The  door  he  had  already   made  secure. 

In  the  hallway  the  three  came  together,  but 
only  for  a  few  moments  to  remain  so.  The 
occasion  called  for  quick,  instant  actioii,  allowing 
scant  time  for  speech.  Nor  was  there  much 
said ;  Sir  Richard  hurriedly  saying  to  their 
host, — 

'*Tell  the  ladies  not  to  be  alarmed.  Say  that 
Mr.  Trevor  and  I  have  gone  out  to  reason  with 
those  rude  visitors  of  yours,  and  see  what  terms 
we  can  make  with  them.  If  they  won't  listen 
to " 

Whatever  the  alternative  meant  he  left  it 
unspoken,  for  chancing  to  turn  his  eyes  up  the 
stairway,  he  there  saw  that  he  was  being  listened 
to  already.  On  its  lowest  landing  were  the 
sisters,  who  had  overheard   all. 

They  were  coming  down,  and  now  came  on; 
Sabrina  gliding  forward  to  the  knight,  and  laying 


124  NO  quarter! 

her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  He  had  stepped  a 
little  apart  to  receive  her,  with  anticipation  of 
something  she  might  have  to  say  confidential, 
and  with  her,  he,  too,  wanted  a  word  of  that 
kind. 

**0h,  Richard!"  she  tremblingly  exclaimed, 
"what  are  you  going  to  do?  Nothing  rash,  I 
hope?" 

*'  Certainly  not,  dearest  Have  you  ever  known 
me  to  act  rashly  ?  '* 

"No;  but  now " 

**  Well,  now.  I'm  not  likely  to  ^  change  my 
ways.  In  what  I  intend  there  may  Se  no  danger 
after  all.  A  little  risk  true,  but  for  a  big  stake. 
No  less  than  three  thousand  pounds  these  royal 
miscreants  demand  from  your  father*,  and  will 
have  it  if  we  don't  do  something.  But  we  will, 
and  they  won't  get  it — not  this  day,  unless  I'm 
mistaken  about  the  men  who  are  gathering 
outside.      Ah !    we'll  match  them,  never  fear." 

He  then  spoke  some  words  in  a  whisper,  not 
to  be  overheard  by  the  servants  still  rushing 
to  and  fro,  which  seemed  further  to  reassure 
her. 

"Now,  love!  let  me  go,"  he  said,  in  conclusion. 
"There  isn't  a  second  to  spare.  Mr.  Trevor  and 
I   must  out." 

She  neither  questioned  nor  tried  to  detain  him 
longer.  Whatever  he  meant  doing,  she  could 
confide  in  him ;  if  to  fight,  believed  him  capable 
of  conquering  the  whole  world,  and  wisely  ruling 
it  after.  For  the  woman  who  loves  there  is  no 
fancy  too  wild,  no  feat  seeming  impossible  to  him 
who  has  her  heart 

More  constrained  was  the  speech  passing  neai 
at  hand,  for  there  were  three  taking  part  in  it 
Yet  not  less  anxious  than  her  sister  seemed  Vaga, 


"  RESIST  1**  l^S 

^f  anything  in  greater  distress  about  the  danger 
apprehended.  Possibly  but  for  her  father  being 
beside  her,  she  would  have  addressed  Eustace 
Trevor  in  a  strain  similar  to  that  of  Sabrina 
appealing  to  Sir  Richard.  As  it  was  her  looks 
were  eloquent  of  fear  for  him,  mingled  with  a 
confidence  in  his  power  to  hold  his  own,  whatever 
was  to  happen. 

The  scene  was  short  —  of  not  more  than  a 
minute's  duration  —  and  ended  by  the  two 
gentlemen  guests  of  Hollymead  House  making 
all  haste  out  of  it — not  by  the  front  door,  but 
one  at  back,  which  opened  into  the  stable- 
yard. 

Soon  as  on  its  stoop,  Sir  Richard  called  out, — 

''  Horses,   Hubert !      Quick  1 " 

And  quick  they  came.  In  an  instant  after, 
Hubert  was  seen  leading  two  out  of  their  stalls, 
another  pair  being  led  behind  by  the  servant  of 
Eustace  Trevor.  Saddled  and  bridled  all ;  for 
word  had  been  sent  out  before,  and  everything 
was  ready — even  to  the  varlet  having  been 
warned  by  the  veteran  and  gained  over  to  the 
good  cause,  now  his   master's. 

In  twenty  seconds'  time  all  four  were  in  the 
saddle,  men  as  masters  setting  themselves  firm 
in  the  stirrups,  taking  tight  hold  of  the  reins, 
with  a  look  to  their  swords  to  see  there  was 
no  entanglement  against  unsheathing  them. 

Then,  at  a  word  from  Sir  Richard,  the  yard 
gate,  hitherto  shut,  was  *  thrown  open,  and  out 
they  all  burst,  spurring  to  a  brisk  canter  as  they 
rode  round  for  the  front  of  the  house. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

IN  THE  MIDST  OF  A  MOa 

The  people  who  had  followed  the  soldiers  were 
still  outside  the  hawhaw ;  a  file  of  troopers  having 
been  stationed  by  its  gate  to  prevent  their  passing 
through.  They  could  easily  have  sprung  over  out 
of  the  fossCy  but  for  some  reason  seemed  not  to 
care  for  it. 

Lunsford,  after  dismounting,  had  rushed  up  into 
the  porch,  but  too  late  to  hinder  the  shutting  of 
the  door;  at  which  he  was  now  thundering  and 
threatening  to  adopt  the  alternative  he  had  been 
dared  to. 

"We  shall  certainly  break  it  in,"  he  cried  out 
in  a  loud  voice,  **if  not  opened  instantly." 

This  elicitating  no  response  from  inside,  he 
added, — 

"  Burst  it  in,  men  !     Knock  it  to  pieces  !  " 

At  which  the  sergeant  and  a  file  of  troopers, 
now  also  in  the  porch,  commenced  hammering 
away  with  the  butts  of  their  dragon-muzzled 
muskets.  But  they  might  as  well  have  attempted 
to  batter  down  the  walls  themselves.  Not  the 
slightest  impression  could  they  make  on  the 
strong  oaken  panels.  They  were  about  to  desist, 
when  something  besides  that  caused  them  sud- 
denly  to   suspend    their   strokes,    Lunsford    himself 

commanding    it.      He    at    the    same    time    sprang 

Z26 


IN   THE   MIDST  OF  A   MOB.  12; 

down  from  the  porch  and  back  to  his  saddle, 
calh'ng  on  them  to  do  likewise. 

Odd  as  might  seem  his  abrupt  abandonment  of 
the  door-breaking  design,  there  was  no  mystery 
in  it.  A  cry  sent  up  by  the  crowd  of  people  had 
given  him  notice  of  something  new ;  and  that 
something  he  now  saw  in  the  shape  of  four  horse- 
men sweeping  round  from  the  rear  of  the  house. 
These  were  also  outside  the  hawhaw,  having 
crossed  it  by  another  causeway  at  back.  A 
second  shout  greeted  them  as  they  got  round  to 
the  front,  and  drew  bridle  in  the  midst  of  the 
crowd — a  cheer  in  which  new  voices  joined  ;  those 
of  the  Ruardean  men,  just  arrived  upon  the 
ground. 

**  Foresters* ! "  cried  Sir  Richard,  as  they  gathered 
in  a  ring  around  him,  "  will  you  allow  Ambrose 
Powell  to  be  plundered — your  best  friend  ?  And 
by  Sir  John  Wintour — your  worst  enemy.?" 

"  No — never !  That  we  won't  1 "  answered  a  score 
of  voices. 

"Well,  the  soldiers  you  see  there  are  Sir 
John's,  from  Lydney,  though  wearing  the  King's 
•miform  ?  " 

"  We  know  *em — too  well  1 "  **  Have  seen  their 
ugly  faces  afore."  "  Curse  Sir  John,  an'  the  King 
too  1  "  were  some  of  the  responses  showered  back. 
Then  one,  delivering  himself  in  less  disjointed 
but  equally  ungrammatical  phrase,  took  up  the 
part  of  spokesman,  saying, — 

"We've  niver  had  a  hour  o'  peace  since  Sir 
John  Wintour  ha'  been  head-man  o'  the  Forest. 
He've  robbed  us  o*  our  rights  that  be  old  as  the 
Forest  itself,  keeps  on  robbin'  us ;  claims  the 
mines,  an'  the  timber,  an'  the  grazin'  as  all  his 
own.  An'  the  deer,  too!  Yes,  the  deer;  the  wild 
anymals  e^s  should   belong   to  everybody  free  born 


128  NO  quarter! 

o*  the  Manor  o*  St.  BriaveFs.  I'm  that  myself,  an' 
Stan*  up  here  afore  ye  all  to  make  protest  agaynst 
his   usurpins." 

That  the  speaker  was  Rob  Wilde  might  be 
deduced  from  allusion  to  the  deer,  pronounced 
with  special  emphasis.     And  he  it  was. 

"We  join  you  in  your  pro^st,  Rob;  an*  '11  stan' 
by  you  ! "  cried  one. 

"Yes!     All  of  us!"  exclaimed  another. 

"An'  we'll  help  enforce  it,"  came  from  a  third. 
**  If  need  be,  now  on  the  spot.  We  only  want 
some  'un  as  *il  show  us  the  way — tell  us  what  to 
do." 

At  this  all  eyes  turned  on  Sir  Richard.  Though 
personally  a  stranger  to  most  of  them,  all  knew 
him  by  name,  and  something  more — knew  how  he 
had  declared  for  Parliament  and  people,  against 
King  and  Court,  and  that  it  was  no  mere  private 
quarrel  between  him  and  Sir  John  Wintour  which 
had  caused  him  to  speak  as  he  had  done. 

"Theer  be  the  gentleman  who'll  do  all  that," 
said  Rob,  pointing  to  the  knight.  "  The  man  to 
help  us  in  gettin'  back  our  rights  an'  redressin' 
our  wrong.  If  he  can't,  nobody  else  can.  But  he 
can  and  will.     He  ha'  told  some  o'  us  as  much." 

Another  huzza  hailed  this  declaration,  for  they 
knew  Rob  spoke  with  authority.  And  their 
excitement  rose  to  a  still  higher  pitch,  when  the 
knight,  responding,  said, — 

"  My  brave  Foresters  !  Thanks  for  the  confidence 
you  give  me.  I  know  all  your  grievances,  and 
am  ready  to  do  what  I  can  to  help  you  in 
righting  them.  And  it  had  best  begin  now,  on 
the  spot,  as  some  one  has  just  said.  Are  you 
ready  to  back  me  in  teaching  these  usurpers  a 
lesson  ? " 

**  Ready  I     That  we  be,  every  man  o*  usu" 


IN  THE  MIDST  OF  A  MOB.  1 29 

"Try  us,  an*  see!" 

•'Only  let's  ha'  the  word  from  you,  sir,  an*  well 
fall  on  'cm  at  once!" 

"  We're  Foresters ;  we  an't  afeerd  o*  no  soldiers— 
not  sich  raws  as  them,  anyhow." 

**  Enough  ! "  cried  the  knight,  his  eyes  aglow  as 
with  triumph  already  achieved ;  for  he  now  felt 
assured  of  it.  Over  two  hundred  of  the  Foresters 
against  less  than  a  sixth  of  that  number  of 
Lunsford's  hirelings,  he  had  no  fear  for  the  result, 
if  fight  they  must.  So,  when  he  placed  himself 
at  their  head,  with  Eustace  Trevor  by  his  side, 
their  two  armed  attendants  behind,  and  rode  up 
to  the  gate  guarded  by  the  two  troopers,  he  made 
no  request  for  these  to  open  it  and  let  them  pass 
in,  but  a  demand,  with  sword  unsheathed,  and  at 
back  a  forest  of  pikes  to  enforce  it 

The  guards  at  once  gave  way.  Had  they  not, 
in  another  instant  they  would  have  been  hoisted 
out  of  their  saddles  on  the  blades  of  weapons  with 
shafts  ten  feet  long.  Alive  to  this  danger,  they 
briskly  abandoned  their  post,  giving  the  Foresters 
free  passage  through  the  gate. 

During  all  this  time  the  ex-Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower  had  scarce  moved  an  inch  from  the  spot 
where  he  remounted  his  horse.  When  he  saw  the 
four  horsemen  coming  around  the  house,  heard  the 
enthusiastic  shout  hailing  them,  at  the  same  time 
caught  sight  of  the  pikes  and  barbed  halberds, 
whose  blades  of  steel  gleamed  above  the  heads 
of  the  huzzaing  crowd,  his  heart  sank  within  him. 
For  this  brutal  monster,  "Bloody  Lunsford"  as  he 
afterwards  came  to  be  called,  was  craven  as  cruel. 
He  had  swaggered  at  the  front  door  as  inside  the 
Parliament  House  by  the  King's  command ;  but 
there  was  no  King  at  his  back  now,  and  his 
swaggering  forsook  him  on  the  instant.     He  knew 

K 


130  K6  QUARTER! 

something  of  the  character  of  the  Foresters — his 
raw  recruits  knew  them  better — at  a  glance  saw 
his  troop  overmatched,  and,  if  it  came  to  fighting, 
would  be  overpowered.  But  there  was  no  fight, 
either  in  himself  or  his  following ;  and  all  sat  in 
their  saddles  sullen  and  scowling,  but  cowed-like^ 
as  wolves  just  taken  in  a  trap. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

**NO    QUARTER  1* 

Straight  on  to  the  soldiers  rode  Sir  Richard 
Eustace  Trevor  by  his  side,  their  mounted  servants 
behind;  the  men  afoot  following  close  after  in  a 
surging  mass.  These,  soon  as  well  through  the 
gate,  extended  line  to  right  and  left,  turning  the 
troop  until  they  had  it  hemmed  in  on  every  side. 
Nor  was  it  altogether  the  movement  of  a  mob, 
but  evidently  under  direction,  Rob  Wilde  appear- 
ing to  guide  it  more  by  signs  and  signals  than  any 
spoken  words.  However  managed,  the  troopers 
iow  saw  themselves  environed  by  pikes  and  other 
pointed  things — a  very  chevaiix  de  frise — held  in 
'ihe  hands  of  men  whose  faces  showed  no  fear  of 
them.  For  the  country  had  not  yet  been  cursed 
by  a  standing  army,  and  in  the  eyes  of  the  citizen 
the  soldier  was  not  that  formidable  thing  as  since, 
and  now.  Rather  was  the  fear  on  the  side-  of 
Lunsford's  party,  most  of  whom,  Foresters  them- 
selves of  the  inferior  sort,  knew  the  men  who 
stood  confronting  them. 

Up  to  this  moment  no  word  had  been  spoken 
by  their  commanding  officer,  save  some  muttered 
speech  he  exchanged  with  Reginald  Trevor.  Nor 
did  he  now  break  the  silence,  leaving  that  to  the 
intruders. 

"  Captain,  or,  as  I  understand  you  are  now  called. 
Colonel    Lunsford/'.  said   Sir   Richard,   drawing  up 


132  NO  quarter! 

in  front  of  him,  "  by  the  way  youVe  behaving  you 
appear  to  think  yourself  in  the  Low  Countries,  with 
rights  of  free  forage  and  plunder.  Let  me  tell 
you,  sir,  this  is  England,  where  such  courses  are 
not  yet  in  vogue  ;  and  to  be  hoped  never  will  be, 
even  though  a  King  authorise,  aye,  command  them. 
But  I  command  you,  in  the  name  of  the  people, 
to  desist  from  them,  or  take  the  consequence." 

Under  such  smart  of  words  it  might  be  supposed 
that  a  professional  soldier  and  King's  officer  would 
have  dared  death  itself,  or  any  odds  against  him. 
It  was  of  this  the  muttered  speech  had  been 
passing  between  him  and  Reginald  Trevor,  the 
latter  urging  him  to  risk  it  and  fall  on.  Whatever 
else,  he  was  no  dastard,  and,  though  he  had  once 
given  way  on  that  same  spot,  it  was  not  from 
cowardice,  but  ruled  by  a  sentiment  very  different. 

In  vain  his  attempt  to  inspire  his  superior  officer 
with  courage  equalling  his  own ;  no  more  would 
he  have  been  successful  with  their  followers,  as 
he  could  see  by  looking  along  the  line  of  faces, 
most  of  them  showing  dread  of  that  threatening 
array  of  miscellaneous  weapons,  and  a  reluctance 
to  engage  them. 

In  fine,  the  ex-Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  made 
lip  his  mind  to  live  a  little  longer,  even  at  the 
risk  of  being  stigmatised  as  a  poltroon.  But,  not 
instantly  declaring  himself — too  confused  and 
humiliated  for  speech — Sir   Richard  went  on, — 

"  No  doubt,  sir,  your  delicate  sense  of  humanity 
will  restrain  you  from  a  conflict  in  which  your 
soldiers  must  be  defeated  and  their  blood  spilled 
uselessly — innocent  lambs  as  they  appear  to  be." 

The  irony  elicited  laughter  from  the  Foresters ; 
for  a  more  forbidding  set  of  faces  than  those  of 
the  troopers  could  not  well  have  been  seen  any- 
where. 


•^NO  QUARTER  1**  I33 

•'  But,"  continued  the  knight,  "  if  you  decline  to 
withdraw  without  showing  how  skilfully  you  can 
yourself  handle  a  sword,  I'm  willing  to  give  you 
the  opportunity.  You've  had  it  from  me  before,  and 
refused.  But  you  may  be  a  braver  man,  and  think 
yourself  a  better  swordsman  now  ;  so  I  offer  it  again." 

The  taunt  was  torture  itself  to  the  man  in 
whose  teetk  it  was  flung.  All  the  more  from  the 
cheering  and  jibes  of  the  Foresters,  who  seemed 
thoroughly  to  enjoy  seeing  Sir  John  Wintour*s 
bullies  thus  brought  to  book.  And  still  more 
that  in  the  window  above  were  two  feminine  faces, 
one  of  them  that  he  had  been  so  late  admiring, 
the  ladies  evidently  listening. 

Notwithstanding  all,  Lunsford  could  not  screw  up 
courage  for  a  combat  he  had  once  before  declined, 
and   now  the  second  time  shunned   it,  saying, — 

**  Sir  Richard  Walwyn,  I  am  not  here  for  the 
settlement  of  private  quarrels.  When  the  time 
fits  for  it  I  shall  answer  the  challenge  you  say  is 
repeated,  but  which  I  deny.  My  business  at 
present  is  with  Mr.  Ambrose  Powell,  as  Deputy- 
Commissioner  of  Array,  to  collect  the  King's  dues 
from  him.  Since  he's  refused  to  pay  them,  and  I 
have  no  orders,  nor  wish,  to  use  violence,  so  far 
as  shedding  blood,  it  but  remains  for  me  to  take 
back  his  answer  to  my  superiors." 

It  was  such  a  ludicrous  breakdown  of  his  late 
blustering,  and  withdrawal  of  demand,  that  the 
Foresters  hailed  it  with  a  loud  huzza,  mingled  with 
laughter  and  satirical  speech. 

When  their  cheering  had  ceased,  so  that  he 
could  be  heard.   Sir  Richard  rejoined, — 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  the  best  thing  you  can  do.  And 
the  sooner  you  set  about  it  the  better  for  both 
yourself  and  your  men,  as  you  may  be  aware 
without  further  warning." 


134  NO  quarter! 

It  was  like  giving  the  last  kick  to  a  cur,  and  as 
a  cur  Tom  Lunsford  took  it,  literally  turning  tail 
— that  of  his  horse — upon  Hollymead  House. 

Out  through  the  hawhaw  gate  rode  he,  his 
troop  behind,  every  man-jack  of  them  looking  cowed 
and  crestfallen  as  himself. 

Alone  Reginald  Trevor  held  high  front,  retiring 
with  angry  reluctance,  as  a  lion  driven  from  its 
quarry  by  hunters  too  numerous  to  be  resisted. 
But  he  passed  not  away  without  holding  speech 
with  his  cousin,  on  both  sides  bitterly  recrim^ative. 

"  So  youVe  turned  your  back  upon  the    King ! " 

It  was  Reginald  who  said  this,  having  spurred 
up  alongside  the  other  before  parting. 

"  Rather  say  the  King  has  turned  his  back  upon 
the  people,"  was  Eustace's  rejoinder.  "After  such 
behaviour  as  I've  just  been  witness  to,  by  hiai 
orders  and  authority,  I  think  I  am  justified  in  turn- 
ing my  back  upon  him." 

"  Oh !  that's  your  way  of  putting  it.  Well ;  it 
may  justify  you  in  the  eyes  of  your  new  friends 
here — very  warm  friends  all  at  once  1 " — this  witk 
a  sneer — "  but  what  will  your  father  think  ?  He 
won't  like  it,  I'm  sure." 

"I   daresay  he  won't.     If  not,   I   can't  help  it." 

"And  don't  seem  to  care  either!  How  indiffer- 
ent you've  grown  to  family  feeling !  and  in  such 
a  short  space  of  time.  You  used  to  pass  for  the 
most  affectionate  of  sons — a  very  paragon  of  filial 
duty  ;  and  now " 

"  And  now,"  interrupted  the  ex-courtier,  becoming 
impatient  at  being  thus  lectured,  "  whatever  I  may 
be,  I'm  old  enough,  and  think  myself  wise  enough, 
to  manage  my  own  affairs,  without  needing  counsel 
from  any  one — even  from  my  sage  cousin,  Reginald." 

"As  you  like,  Eust.  But  you'll  repent  w^hat 
you're  doing,  yet" 


" NO- QUARTER  1"  I35 

"  If  I  should,  Rej,  it  won't  be  with  any  blame 
to  you.     You  can  go  your  way,  as   I  will  naine." 

*'Ah!  Yours  will  bring  you  to  ruin  —  like 
enough  your  neck  upon  the  block  or  into  a 
halter ! " 

"  I'll  risk  that.  If  there's  to  be  hanging  and 
beheading — which  I  hope  there  will  not — it  needn't 
be  all  on  one  side.  So  far,  that  you  are  on 
hasn't  had  the  advantage  in  the  beheading  line, 
and's  not  likely.  They  who  struck  off  Strafford's 
head  might  some  day  do  the  same  with  the  King's 
own.  And  he  would  deserve  it,  going  on  in  this 
way." 

"  By  Heaven ! "  cried  Reginald,  now  becoming 
infuriated,  "  the  King  will  wear  his  head,  and 
crown  too,  long  enough  to  punish  every  traitor — 
every  base  renegade  as  yourself." 

The  angry  bitterness  of  his  speech  was  not  all 
inspired  by  loyalty  to  King  or  throne.  Those  fair 
faces  above  had  something  to  do  with  it ;  for  the 
ladies  were  still  there,  listening,  and  he  knew  it 

Never  was  Eustace  Trevor  nearer  to  drawing 
sword,  not  to  do  it.  But  it  was  his  kinsman — 
cousin ;  how  could  he  shed  his  blood  ?  That,  too, 
late  so  freely,  generously  offered  in  his  defence ! 
Still,  to  be  stigmatised  as  a  "base  renegade,"  he 
could  not  leave  such  speech  unanswered,  nor  the 
anger  he  felt  unexpressed. 

"If  you  were  not  my  cousin,  Rej,  I  would  kill 
you!" 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  trembling  with  passion, 

*' Vou  kill  me/  Ha-ha!  Then  try,  if  you  like 
— if  you  dare  !  " 

And  the  King's  officer  made  a  movement  as  if 
to  unsheath  his  sword. 

"You  know  I  dare.  But  I  won't  Not  here— 
not  now." 


136  NO   QUARTER  1 

It  was  With  the  utmost  effort  Eustace  Trevor 
controlled  himself.  He  only  succeeded  by  thinking 
of  what  had  been  before.  For  it  was  no  feeling  of 
fear  that  hindered  him  crossing  his  sword  with 
his  cousin,  but  the  sentiment  hitherto  restraining 
him. 

**0h,  well!"  rejoined  Reginald.  "We'll  meet 
again — may  be  on  the  field  of  battle.     And  if  so, 

by  G !  I'll  make   you    rue   this — show  you  no 

mercy !  " 

"You  will  when  you're  asked  for  it." 
"You    needn't   ask.      When   you    see   my   sword 
out,  you'll  hear  the  cry,  '  No  Quarter  ! '  " 
"When   I   hear  that,   I'll  cry  it  too." 
Not   another   word   passed   between  them,    Regi- 
nald    wheeling    round    and    galloping   off   after  the 
soldiers.     And   from  that  hour,  in  his  heart,  full  of 
jealous    vengeance,     the    resolve,    should    he    ever 
encounter  his  cousin  in  the  field  of  fight,  to  show 
bim  no  quarter ! 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

WAR  IN   FULL  FURY. 

An  interval  of  some  weeks  after  the  scenes  de- 
scribed, and  the  war,  long  imminent,  was  on.  All 
over  England  men  had  declared  cause  and  taken 
sides;  the  battle  of  Edgehill  had  been  fought,  and 
blood  spilled  in  various  encounters  elsewhere.  For 
besides  the  two  chief  forces  in  the  field,  every 
shire,  almost  every  hundred,  had  its  parties  and 
partizans,  who  waged  la  petite  guerre  with  as  much 
vigour,  and  more  virulence,  than  the  grand  armies 
with  generals  commanding.  Many  of  the  country 
gentry  retired  within  the  walled  towns;  they  who 
did  not,  fortifying  their  houses  when  there  was  a 
plausibility  of  being  able  to  defend  them,  and 
garrisoning  them  with  their  friends  and  retainers. 
The  roads  were  no  longer  safe  for  peaceful 
travellers,  but  the  reverse.  When  parties  met 
upon  them,  strangers  to  one  another,  it  was  with 
the  hail,  "  Who  are  you  for— King  or  Parliament  ?  " 
If  the  answers  were  adverse,  it  was  swords  out, 
and  a  conflict,  often  commencing  with  the  cry,  *'  No 
Quarter ! ''  to  end   in   retreat,  surrender,  or   death. 

Looking  at  the  allegiance  of  the  respective  shires 
to  the  two  parties  that  divided  the  nation,  one 
cannot  help  observing  the  wonderful  similitude  of 
their  sentiments  then  as  now — almost  a  parallelism. 
In  those  centres  where  the  cavaliers  or  malignants 
beld    $way,    their    modern    representatives  —  Tories 


138  NO  quarter! 

and  Jingoes  —  are  still  in  the  ascendant.  With 
some  changes  and  exceptions,  true ;  places  which 
have  themselves  changed  by  increase  in  popula- 
tion, wealth,  refinement,  and  enlightenment  —  in 
fhort,  all  the  adjuncts  of  civilization.  And  in  all 
these,  or  nearly  all,  the  altered  political  sentiment 
has  been  from  the  bad  to  the  better,  from  the 
low  belief  in  Divine  rights  and  royal  prerogatives 
to  a  higher  faith  in  the  rights  of  the  people,  if 
not  its  highest  and  purest  form — Republicanism. 

From  this  standard  rather  has  there  been  retro- 
gression since  that  glorious  decade  when  it  was 
the  Government  of  England.  At  the  Restoration 
its  spirit,  with  many  of  its  staunchest  upholders, 
took  flight  to  a  land  beyond  the  Atlantic,  there 
to  breathe  freely,  live  a  new  life,  call  into  exist- 
-ence  and  nourish  a  new  nation,  ere  long  destined 
^o  dictate  the  policy  and  control  the  action  of 
every  other,  in  the  civilized  world.  This  ''sure  as 
eggs  are  eggs  ;"  unless  the  old  leaven  of  human 
wickedness — not  inherent  in  man's  heart,  as  shal- 
low thinkers  say,  but  inherited  from  an  ancestry 
debased  by  the  rule  of  prince  and  priest — unless 
the  old  weeds  of  this  manhood's  debasement 
spring  up  again  from  the  old  seeds  and  roots, 
despite  all  tramplings  down  and  teachings  to  the 
contrary. 

It  may  be  so.  The  devil  is  still  alive  on  the 
earth,  busy  as  ever  misleading  and  corrupting  the 
sons  of  men  ;  in  many  places  and  countries,  alas  ! 
too  triumphantly  successful,  even  in  that  land  outre 
mer,  over  the  Atlantic. 

At  the  breaking  out  of  our  so-called,  but  mis- 
called, **  Great  Rebellion,"  in  the  belt  of  shires 
bordering  Wales,  the  Royalists  were  in  the  ma- 
jority ;  perhaps  not  so  much  in  numbers  as  in 
strength    and    authority.      The    same    with    WalQS 


WAR  IN  FULL  FURY.  139 

Itself;  not  from  any  natural  belief  in,  or  devotion 
to,  the  thing  called  "  Crown,"  but  because  this 
spirited  people  were  under  the  domination  of 
certain  powerful  and  wealthy  proprietors  of  the 
Royalist  party,  who  controlled  their  action,  as  their 
political  leanings.  Of  this  Monmouthshire  offers 
an  apt  illustration,  where  the  Earl  of  Worcester, 
Ragland*s  lord,  held  undisputed  sway  to  the 
remotest  corners  of  the  county. 

Still,  Wales  was  not  all  for  the  King ;  and 
where  such  influence  failed  to  be  exerted,  as  in 
Pembroke  and  Glamorgan  in  the  south,  and  some 
shires  and  districts  of  the  north,  the  natural  in- 
stincts of  the  Welsh  prompted  them  to  declare 
for  liberty,  as  they  have  lately  done  at  the  polls. 
From  any  stigma  that  may  have  attached  to  them 
in  the  seventeenth  century  they  have  nobly  re« 
deemed  themselves  in  the  nineteenth. 

Of  the  bordering  counties,  Salop,  as  might  be 
expected,  stood  strong  for  the  King.  The  sub- 
serviency of  its  people — for  centuries  bowing  head 
.and  bending  knee  to  the  despotic  Lords  of  the 
Marches,  who  held  court  at  Ludlow — had  become 
part  of  their  nature ;  hence  an  easy  transfer  of 
their  obeisance  to  Royalty  direct. 

The  shire  of  Worcester,  closely  connected  with 
Salop  in  trade  and  other  relationships,  largely 
shared  its  political  inclinings ;  the  city  of  Worces- 
ter itself  being  noted  as  a  nest  of  "foul  malignants/' 
till  purged  of  them  by  the  "  crowning  mercy." 

As  for  Hereford  county,  with  its  semi-pastoral, 
semi-agricultural  population,  it  espoused  the  side 
natural  to  such ;  which,  I  need  hardly  say,  was  not 
that  o(  liberty.  Throughout  all  ages,  and  in  all 
countries,  the  bucolic  mind  has  been  the  most 
easily  misled,  and  given  strongest  support  to 
tyranny  and    obstruction.      But    for    it    the    slimy 


140  NO  quarter! 

Imperialism  of  France  would  never  have  existedi 
and  but  for  the  same  the  slimier  imitation  of  it 
in-  England  would  not  have  been  attempted. 
Luckily,  on  this  side  of  the  English  Channel  there 
is  not  so  much  of  the  base  material  as  on  the 
other.  When  the  Jew  of  Hughenden  travestied 
country  squire,  patronising  and  bestowing  prize 
smock-frocks  on  poor  old  Dick  Robinson,  he  mis- 
took the  voting  influence  of  Dick's  farmer-master. 
It  no  longer  controls  the  destinies  of  this  land,  and 
will  never  more  do  so  if  the  Parliament  now  in 
povver  but  acts  up  to  the  spirit  which  has  so 
placed  it.     Nous  verrons  I 

Returning  to  the  times  of  England's  greatest 
glory,  and  the  shire  of  Hereford,  this,  though 
strongly  Royalist,  was  not  wholly  so.  Many  of 
the  common  people,  especially  on  the  Gloucester 
shire  side,  were  otherwise  disposed,  and  among 
the  gentry  were  several  noble  exceptions,  as  the 
Kyrles,  Powells,  and  Hoptons  ;  and  noblest  of  all. 
Sir  Robert  Harley,  of  Brampton  Bryan — relentless 
iconoclast.  If  the  name  of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn 
be  not  found  in  the  illustrious  list,  it  is  because' 
the  writer  of  romance  has  thought  fit  to  be- 
stow upon  this  valiant  knight  a  fictitious  nom  de 
guerre. 

But  the  western  shire  entitled  to  highest  honours 
for  its  action  in  this  grand  throe  of  the  nation's 
troubles  was  undoubtedly  Gloucester  —  glorious 
Gloucester.  When  the  lamp  of  liberty  was  burn- 
ing dim  and  low  elsewhere  over  t^ie  land,  it  still 
shone  bright  upon  the  Severn's  banks  ;  a  very 
blaze  in  its  two  chief  cities,  Gloucester  and  Bris- 
tol. In  both  it  was  a  beacon,  holding  out  hope 
to  the  friends  of  freedom,  near  and  afar,  struggling 
against  its  foes,  in  danger  of  being  whelmed,  as 
mariners  by  the  maddened  ocean. 


WAR  IN   FULL  FURY.  I41 

To  the  latter  city,  as  a  seaport,  the  simile  may 
be  more  appropriate,  though  the  former  is  equally 
entitled  to  a  share  in  its  credit  But  Bristol  most 
claims  our  attention  now,  as  it  was  in  1642,  under 
the  mayoralty  of  Aldworth.  A  main  entrepot  and 
emporium  of  commerce  with  the  outside  world,  it 
was  naturally  emancipated  from  the  narrow- 
minded  views  and  prejudices  of  our  insular 
nationality ;  not  a  few  of  its  citizens  having  so 
far  become  enlightened  as  to  believe  the  world 
had  not  been  created  solely  for  the  delectation  of 
royal  sybarites,  and  the  suffering  of  their  subjects 
and  slaves.  Indeed,  something  more  than  the 
majority  of  the  citizens  of  Bristol  held  this  belief; 
and,  as  a  consequence,  showed  their  preference 
for  the  Parliament  at  the  earliest  hour  that  pre- 
ferences came  to  be  declared.  So,  when  Colonel 
Essex,  son  of  the  Earl  of  like  name — Lord  General 
of  the  Parliamentary  army  —  was  sent  thither 
commissioned  as  its  military  governor,  no  one 
offered  to  dispute  his  authority ;  instead,  he  was 
received  with  open  arms. 

But  ere  long  the  free-thinking  Bristolians  made 
a  discovery,  which  not  only  surprised  but  alarmed 
them.  Neither  more  nor  less  than  that  the  man 
deputed  by  the  Parliament  to  protect  and  guard 
their  interests  showed  rather  the  disposition  to 
betray  them.  If  living  in  these  days,  Colonel 
Essex  would  have  been  a  Whig,  with  a  leaning 
towards  Toryism.  As  Governor  of  Bristol  in  1642 
he  inclined  so  far  to  Cavalierism  as  to  make  boast 
of  not  being  a  Crophead,  while  further  favouring 
those  who  wore  their  locks  long  and  prated  scorn- 
fully of  Puritans  and  Quakers.  At  the  time  there 
was  a  host  of  these  long-haired  gentry  in  Bristol, 
prisoners  whom  Stamford  had  taken  at  Hereford, 
under  parole^   and    the   indulgent   colonel   not   only 


142  NO  quarter! 

kept  their  company,  but  joined  them  over  their 
cups  in  sneers  at  the  plebeian  Roundheads,  who 
lacked  the  gentility  of  blackguardism. 

Luckily  for  the  good  cause,  the  tongue  of  this 
semi-renegade  outran  his  prudence  ;  his  talk 
proving  too  loud  to  escape  being  heard  by  the 
Parliament,  whose  ears  it  soon  reached,  with  the 
result  that  one  fine  evening,  while  in  carousal 
with  some  of  his  Cavalier  friends,  he  was  sum- 
moned to  the  door,  to  see  standing  there  a  man 
of  stern  mien,  who  said, — 

"  Colonel  Essex  !  Tis  my  disagreeable  duty  to 
place  you  under  arrest." 

**  Place  me  under  arrest ! "  echoed  the  military 
governor  of  Bristol,  his  eyes  in  amazement  swell- 
ing up  in  their  sockets.  "What  madman  are 
you,  sirrah  ? " 

**  Not  so  much  madman  as  you  may  be  suppos- 
ing. Of  my  name,  as  also  reason  for  intruding 
"Upon  you  so  inopportunely,  I  take  it  this  will  be 
sufficient  explanation." 

At  which  the  stern  man  handed  him  a  piece  of 
folded  parchment,  stamped  with  a  grand  seal — 
not  the  King's,  but  one  bearing  the  insignia  of 
the  Parliament. 

With  shaking  fingers  Essex  broke  it  open  and 
read  ; — 

"  This  to  make  known  that  our  worthy  and  well- 
trusted  servanty  Colonel  Nathaniel  Fiennes^  has  our 
commission  to  undertake  the  government  of  our  good 
and  faithful  city  of  Bristoly  and  we  hereby  direct 
and  do  command  that  all  persons  suhnit  and  yield 
due  obedince  to  the  lawful  authority  so  holden  by 
him. 

{Signed)  «*  LENTHiO^* 


War  in  t^ULL  FukV.  t^3 

The  astonished  colonel  made  some  vapouring 
protest  in  speech,  but  not  by  action.  For  the 
son  of  Lord  Saye  and  Sele  had  not  come  thither 
unattended.  At  his  back  was  a  posse  of  stalwart 
fellows  —  soldiers,  who,  that  same  morning,  were 
under  the  orders  of  him  now  being  placed  in 
arrest,  but,  having  learnt  there  was  a  change  of 
commanding  officers,  knew  better    than    to    refuse 

.  obedience  to  the  new  one. 

fj  So  the  deposed  governor,  forced  to  part  com- 
pany with  his  convives^  was  carried  off  to  prison  as 
a  common  malefactor.  He,  too,  the  son  of  the 
Earl  of  Essex,  Lord  General  of  the  Parliamen- 
tary army — the  Parliament  itself  having  ordered 
it  I  Verily,  these  were  days  when  men  feared  not 
to  arraign  and  punish — unlucky  times  for  tyrants 
and  traitors!  To  have  concealed  a  deficit  of  fouf 
thousand  pounds  in  the  national  exchequer  then 
would  have  been  a  more  dangerous  deception 
than  to  waste  as  many  millions  now^  without 
being  able  to  render  account  of  theoL 


CHAPTER  XXn 

THE  CADGERS  ON  DANGEROUS  GROUND. 

"YONNER  be  the  big  city  at  last!  Glad  I  am. 
Ain't  you  that,  Jinkum  ?  " 

It  was  Jerky  Jack  who  spoke,  the  exclamation 
meant  for  his  sister,  who  was  with  him,  the  inter- 
rogation addressed  to  the  donkey. 

They  were  not  upon  any  of  the  Forest  roads, 
but  quite  on  the  other  side  of  the  Severn,  trudging 
along  towards  Bristol,  the  big  city  whose  spires 
Jack  had  caught  sight  of. 

One  could  almost  fancy  that  the  dumb  brute 
comprehended  the  question  facetiously  put ;  at  the 
words  elevating  its  head,  giving  a  wallop  or  two 
with  its  long  ears,  and  mending  the  pace. 

**  It  be  good  three  mile  to  go  yet,"  rejoined  the 
woman.  **Just  that  frae  the  cross  roads — a  bit 
for'rard." 

"  Well,  Winny ;  us  ought  to  get  theer  by  seven 
o'  the  clock  ?  " 

"  So  us  ought,  if  nothin'  stop  we,"  and  she  cast 
an  anxious  glance  along  the  road  ahead. 

"  Don't  think  theer  be  much  danger  o'  gettin' 
stopt  now.  The  Governor  o'  Glo'ster  sayed  when's 
we  got  well  on  maybe  we'd  meet  some  o'  the 
Bristol  sodgers  patrollin'  about.  Weesh  we  did. 
Tain't  noways  comfortable  travellin',  all  o*  the 
time  in  fear  o'  being  pulled  up  and  knocked  about 
by  them   Cavalieres.     Ha !    ha  I     If  that  party    we 


THE  CADGERS  ON  DANGEROUS  GROUND.   I45 

passed  at  Berkeley  cud  a*  seed  through  my  wooden 
leg,  'tain^t  likely  I'd  be  stumpin*  along  here?" 

'*  True.  But  'tain't  wise  to  cry  safe  till  one  be 
sur^  o'  it.  Ye  know  they  told  us  in  Glo'ster  that 
the  King's  dragoneers  ha*  it  all  their  own  way 
in  the  country  places  ;  hini's  they  call  Prince 
Roopert,  goin'  about  like  a  ragin'  lion,  runnin' 
people  through,  an'  shootin*  'em  down  wi*  pistols 
as  if  they  were  no  better  than  dogs.  It's  a  big 
risk  us  be  runnin',  Jack  ! " 

"  Right  you  bees,  theer.  But  then — the  reward, 
Winny!  If  us  only  get  safe  inside,  it  ought  be 
worth  mor'n  the  profits  on  a  twelvemonth  o' 
cadgin*.     Don't  ye  think  'twill  ? " 

**Coorse  I  do." 

She  spoke  in  all  sincerity.  Whatever  the 
money  reward  Jerky  Jack  was  looking  forward 
to,  the  woman  had  another  in  view,  also  contin- 
gent on  their  safe  arrival  inside  the  city, — one  she 
thought  worth  far  more  than  money.  For  there 
she  would,  or  should,  meet  a  man  she  had  not 
seen  for  months,  though  ardently  longing  to  see 
him.  Scarce  necessary  to  say,  Rob  Wilde  was  the 
individual,  when  it  was  known  that  the  erst  deer- 
stealer  of  Dean  Forest  was  now  a  soldier — first 
sergeant  of  a  troop  forming  part  of  the  force  then 
garrisoning  Bristol. 

"Yee-up,  Jinkum?"  cried  Jack,  encouraged  by 
his  sister's  words,  at  the  same  time  conscious  as 
she  of  the  danger  alluded  to,  and  the  probability 
of  their  yet  encountering  obstruction.  It  was  just 
after  the  capture  of  Cirencester  by  Prince  Rupert ; 
a  massacre,  sparing  neither  man  nor  woman,  friend 
nor  foe  ;  they  who  survived  it  having  been  carried, 
or  rather  dragged,  off  to  Oxford  in  triumphal 
train,  a  feast  for  the  eyes  of  the  King.  To  meet 
it,    he,   with  his   entourage  of    courtiers   and    syco- 


146  NO  quarter! 

phants,  sallied  forth  from  the  city  of  colleges — 
tut  not  of  education  or  manners — supreme  capital 
•of  conceit  and  snobbery,  almost  as  much  then  as 
now.  They  were  met  miles  out,  coming  from 
Witney,  by  hundreds  of  half-naked  people,  shiver- 
ing in  the  chill  frost  of  a  winter's  day,  weary 
and  footsore,  covered  with  mud  from  the  roads 
they  had  been  driven  over  as  cattle  to  market ! 

An  impartial  historian,  or  certainly  not  one  who 
favours  the  Parliament,  thus  records  the  cruel  epi- 
sode : — ** Tying  them  in  pairs,  they  were  marched 
to  Oxford.  The  King,  with  many  nobles  and  com- 
manders and  people  of  the  city,  went  forth  to 
witness  their  arrival.  They  formed  a  long  line 
upon  the  road,  escorted  by  two  troops  of  cavalry. 
Among  them  were  gentlemen  and  ministers,  and 
a  mixed  multitude  of  soldiers,  husbandmen,  and 
townsmen.  The  ways  were  foul  with  the  trampling 
of  horses ;  the  captives  had  gone  sometimes  knee 
deep  in  mire,  beaten  and  driven  along  like  jaded 
beasts,  all  of  them  weary,  and  many  of  them 
•vounded.  In  this  wretched  train  appeared  a  ghastly 
^gure,  naked,  and,  because  he  was  unable  to  march 
with  the  rest,  mounted  upon  the  bare  back  of  a 
^orse.  His  form  was  manly  and  handsome  ;  though 
exhausted,  he  sat  upright  with  an  undaunted  air, 
and  the  remarkable  fairness  of  his  bodily  com- 
plexion was  heightened,  where  it  was  not  concealed, 
by  gore  from  many  a  gaping  wound.  As  he  drew 
near  the  King,  a  brawling  woman  cried  aloud  to 
him — *  Ah,  you  traitourly  rogue !  You  are  well 
enough  served/  He  turned  upon  her  a  scornful 
look,  retorted  a  term  of  base  reproach,  sunk  from 
his  seat,  and  expired." 

Such  was  the  spectacle  to  which  the  ruffian 
Rupert  treated  his  uncle  after  the  taking  of  Ciren- 
cesterj  at  the   expense  of   its  unfortunate  citizens. 


tHE  CADGERS  ON  DANGEROUS  GROUND,  l^f 

And  the  "kind-hearted  King"  looked  upon  it 
without  showing  a  spark  of  pity,  while  his  courtiers 
gloated  over  it  in  a  very  exuberance  of  joy,  even 
insulting  the  wretched  captives  by  ribald  speech, 
while  giving  gleeful  and  fulsome  congratulations 
to  their  inhuman  captors. 

The  fall  of  Cirencester  was  the  prelude  to  that 
of  Tewkesbury,  Malmesbury,  and  Devizes,  all 
hitherto  held  by  Parliamentary  forces ;  while  the 
strong  castles  of  Sudley  and  Berkeley  had  also  to 
be  evacuated  by  them,  changing  garrisons  and 
showing  new  flags  above  their  donjons.  So  close 
pressed  at  this  time  were  the  partisans  of  the 
Parliament  in  the  border  shires  that  Massey  wa^ 
all  but  cooped  up  in  Gloucester,  while  the  new 
governor  of  Bristol  was  almost  equally  engaged 
within  the  Seaport  of  the  Severn. 

Not  strange,  then,  Jerky  and  his  sister  having 
fear  to  encounter  the  "  Cavalieres,"  as  Jack  called 
them.  Though  as  humble  cadgers,  they  would  not 
be  exempt  from  outrage  at  the  hands  of  the 
Royalists ;  one  of  whom,  Hastings,  son  of  an 
aristocratic  nobleman,  had  obtained  such  notoriety 
in  this  line  as  to  be  called  "  Rob-carrier.'*  The 
princely  plunderer,  Rupert,  had  set  the  fashion, 
and  wherever  he  and  his  troopers  had  control,  the 
routes  were  only  passable  for  travellers  at  the  risk 
of  being  stripped,  as  by  highwaymen,  and  butchered 
in  cold  blood  on  the  slightest  show  of  resistance. 

It  was  no  market  commodity,  however,  about 
which  Jerky  and  his  sister  were  apprehensive,  nor 
aught  else  carried  in  Jinkum's  panniers — these  being 
absolutely  empty.  What  it  was  could  not  be  learnt 
from  anything  seen  upon  the  donkey  or  the  persons 
of  its  owners  ;  though  Jack's  allusion  to  his  wooden 
leg,  with  certain  eventualities  contingent  on  its 
being    seen    through,    seemed    to    point    to     some 


148  NO  quarter! 

mysterious  matter.  Whatever  it  might  be,  no 
more  speech  was  heard  concerning  it  then,  Jerky 
with  another  "  Yee-up  !  "  adding, — 

"Three  mile  more,  Jinkum,  and  ye*ll  be  in  the 
snug  corner  o'  an  inn  stable-yard,  wi*  a  measure  of 
barley  or  beans  at  your  nose.     Think  o'  that!" 

Despite  the  evident  hurry  the  cadger  was  in,  no 
thwack  of  stick  accompanied  the  words.  Nor  was 
any  needed  ;  the  night  was  well-nigh  on,  the  air 
piercingly  cold,  the  road  frost-bound,  with  nothing 
on  either  side  that  even  an  ass  could  eat,  and 
Jinkum,  hungry  enough,  seemed  to  know  some- 
thing of  that  snug  stable-yard  which  promised 
barley  or  beans.  So,  setting  ears  as  if  determined 
to  reach  the  city  soon  as  possible,  it  again  briskened 
its  pace. 

The  firm  frozen  ground  favoured  speed,  enabling 
Jinkum  to  go  gingerly  along.  It  was  equally 
favourable  to  Jack,  with  his  timber  leg,  or  he 
would  have  had  ado  to  keep  up  with  the  donkey. 
As  it  was,  no  time  was  left  him  for  aught  else  than 
quick  tramping,  the  rough  and  now  darkened 
path  calling  for  all  the  attention  he  could  bestow 
on  it  to  save  him  from  a  tumble.  But  he  had  no 
need  to  trouble  himself  with  any  look-out  ahead. 
That  was  left  to  the  big  sister,  who,  stepping 
out  sorne  paces  in  advance,  scanned  the  road 
at  every  turn  and  corner.  She  saw  nothing, 
however,  to  be  apprehended.  If  there  were  any 
''  Cavalieres "  in  the  neighbourhood,  either  the 
hour — between  day  and  night — or  the  pinching 
cold,  kept  them  confined  to  their  quarters.  At 
all  events,  neither  Cavaliers,  nor  wayfarers  of  any 
other  speciality,  were  encountered  by  them,  and  for 
their  last  three  miles  of  trudge  towards  Bristol  they 
had  the  road  all  to  themselves. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  GRAND  SERGEANT  OF  GUARD. 

Getting  within  sight  of  the  city*s  gate,  the  cadgers 
could  see  it  was  shut,  drawbridge  up,  and  port- 
cullis down.  Bristol  was  then  a  walled  town,  with 
an  enceinte  of  ancient  fortifications  that  had  lately 
been  repaired  and  strengthened.  Night  had  now 
come  on,  and  it  was  pitch  dark.  But  a  lamp  set 
high  on  one  of  the  gate  towers  threw  its  light 
across  the  moat,  revealing  to  the  eyes  of  the  sentry 
who  held  post  overhead  the  party  seeking  ad- 
mittance. At  sight  of  their  humble  mien,  he 
thought  of  the  bitterly  cold  night,  and  hearing  of 
their  reasonable  request,  called  to  the  guard- 
sergeant  below  ;  then,  to  the  inquiry  of  the  latter, 
gave  description  of  them  in  brief  soldierly  phrase — 
"Woman,  man,  and  donkey." 

Whether  his  reversing  the  usual  rule,  by  putting 
the  woman  before  the  man,  was  due  to  her  superior 
stature,  or  because  of  her  being  better  under  the 
lamplight,  his  words  seemed  to  produce  a  singular 
effect  on  the  sergeant.  Starting  suddenly  up  from 
his  seat  by  the  guard-house  fire,  he  rushed  out  and 
on  to  the  wicket.  There,  placing  his  eye  to  the 
peep-hole,  he  saw  what  influenced  him  to  give  in- 
stant orders  for  the  lowering  of  the  bridge. 

By  this  he  was  taking  a  great  responsibility  on 
his  shoulders,  though  they  seemed  strong  and  broad 
enough  to  bear  it;    for  the  guard-sergeant  was  no 


I  JO  NO  quarter! 

*)tlier  than  Rob  Wilde.  As  it  chanced,  the  captain 
>f  the  guard  was  just  then  out  of  the  way  ;  and 
Rob  had  reason  to  think  he  would  be  pardoned  for 
the  little  stretch  of  vicarial  authority. 

"  Ha*  patience,  Win  ! "  he  shouted  across.  "  We 
won't  be  more  than  a  minnit." 

Then  with  a  will  he  set  on  to  assist  the  others 
in  letting  the  bridge  down. 

Win  was  patient ;  could  well  be,  after  hearing 
that  voice,  at  once  recognised  by  her.  She  thought 
nothing  of  the  cold  now  ;  no  more  feared  the  raid- 
ing "  Cavalieres." 

Never    was    drawbridge     more     promptly     made 

passable.       The    creaking    of    a    windlass;    with    a 

rattling  of  chains,    and    it   was   down    in    its    place. 

The  wicket  was  at  the  same  time  drawn  open,  and 

he  cadger  party  passed  over  and  in. 

"  Lor,  Win  ! "  said  Rob,  drawing  the  great  woman 
Inside  under  the  shadow  of  the  guard-house  wall, 
s«nd  saluting  her  with  a  kiss,  "  where  be  yees  from  ?" 

"  Glo'ster  east,"  she  responded,  soon  as  her  lips 
^ere  released  from  the  osculation. 

"  An'  what  ha'  brought  ye  to  Bristol  ?  " 

"  Business  o*  diff'rent  kinds." 

"  But  ye  don't  appear  to  ha'  any  ladin'  on  the 
donkey  ?  " 

"  Us  may  goin'  back — hope  to." 

The  cadgeress  was  prevaricating.  No  commercial 
speculation  was  the  cause  of  their  being  there  ;  and 
if  in  passing  through  Gloucester  they  had  picked 
up  a  commission,  it  was  quite  a  windfall,  having 
nought  to  do  with  the  original  object  of  their  ex- 
tended excursion.  Neither  on  leaving  Ruardean, 
nor  up  to  that  moment,  was  Jerky  himself  aware  of 
its  purpose,  Winny  having  been  its  projector.  But 
he  could  trust  her,  and  she,  in  her  usual  way,  in- 
sisting upon  the  tramp,  he  had  no  alternative   but 


A  GRAND   SERGEANT   OF   GUAkt).  Ijl 

to  undertake  it.  He  knew  now,  why  his  sister  had 
brought  him  to  Bristol,  and  that  Rob  Wilde  was 
the  lure  which  had  attracted  her  thither. 

Rob  had  seme  thought  of  this  himself,  or  at  least 
hoped  it  so;  the  unburdened  donkey  helping  him 
in  his  hope. 

"  But  ye  bean't  goin'  back,  surely  ?  "  he  said. 

«  Why  not  ?  " 

"  The  danger  o'  the  roads  now.  If  Fd  a  known 
you  war  on  them,  Win,  dear,  I  should  ha'  been  feelin' 
a  bit  uneasy." 

Her. game  of  false  pretence  was  now  nearly  up. 
It  had  all  been  due  to  a  fear  which  had  suddenly 
come  over  her  on  seeing  him  again.  Months  had 
elapsed  since  they  last  met,  and  the  rough  Forester, 
erst  in  coarse  common  attire,  his  locks  shaggy  and 
unkempt,  was  now  a  man  of  military  bearing,  hair 
and  whiskers  neatly  trimmed,  in  a  well-fitting  uni- 
form  resplendent  with  the  glitter  of  gold.  He  wai 
only  a  sergeant ;  but  in  her  eyes  no  commanding 
officer  of  troop  or  regiment,  not  even  the  general 
issimo  of  the  army,  could  have  looked  either  Si 
grand  or  so  handsome.  But  it  was  just  that,  witl 
the  thought  of  the  long  interval  since  they  had  last 
stood  side  by  side,  that  now  held  her  reticent. 
How  knew  she  but  that  with  such  change  out- 
wardly, there  might  also  have  come  change  within 
his  heart,  and  towards  herself.?  A  soldier  too, 
now ;  one  of  a  calling  proverbial  for  gallantry  as 
fickleness,  living  in  a  great  city  where^  as  she  sup- 
posed, the  eyes  of  many  a  syren  would  be  turned 
luringly  upon  her  grand  Rob. 

Had  he  yielded  to  their  lures  or  resisted  them  ? 
So  she  mentally  and  apprehensively  interrogated. 
But  only  for  a  short  while  ;  the  "  Win,  dear,"  in 
his  old  voice,  with  its  old  aff*ectionate  tone,  and  his 
solicitude  for  her  safety,  told  he  was  still  true. 


tS2  NO  QOARIKrI 

Doubting  ii  no  longer,  she  threw  aside  the  re- 
serve that  was  beginning  to  perplex  him,  at  the 
same  time  flinging  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and 
in  turn  kissing  him. 

That  was  her  grateful  rejoinder,  sufficiently 
gratifying  to  him  who  received  it,  and  leading 
him  to  further  expressions  of  endearment.  Glad 
was  he  they  had  arrived  safe ;  and  as  to  their 
errand  at  Bristol,  which  she  cared  no  longer  to 
keep  from  him,  he  forbore  further  questioning. 

"Ye  can  tell  me  about  it  when  we  ha'  more  time 
to  talk,"  he  said.  "  But  where  do  you  an*  Jack  'tend 
passin'  the  night  ?  " 

"The  old  place  us  always  stop  at, — Bird-i'-the- 
Bush  Inn." 

"  That  be  over  Avon's  bridge  ? " 

"  Yes ;  just  a  street  or  two  the  other  side." 

Bristol  was  no  strange  place  to  her.  She,  Jerky 
and  Jinkum  had  made  many  a  cadge  thither  before. 

"Fd  go  'long  wi'  ye  to  the  Bird-in-the-Bush," 
said  the  guard-sergeant,  "  but,  as  ye  see,  I'm  on 
duty  at  this  gate,  and  musn't  leave  it  for  a  minnit. 
If  the  captain  was  here — unlucky  he  isn't  just  now 
— he'd  let  me  off,  I  know — seein'  who  it  be." 

"  Why  for  seein'  that,  Rob  ?  " 

'*  Because  o'  his  knowin*  ye.  He  ha'  seen  you  and 
Jack  at  Hollymead  House," 

"It  be  Sir  Richard?" 

"  No,  no,"  hastily  responded  the  ex-deerstealer, 
in  turn,  perhaps,  experiencing  a  twinge  of  jealousy 
as  when  by  the  quarry  on  Cat's  Hill.  ^*Sir  Richard 
be  in  Bristol,  too  ;  but  he's  a  colonel,  not  captain." 

"  Who  be  the  captain,  then  t " 

"  That  young  Cavalier  gentleman  as  comed  to 
Hollymead  'long  wi'  Sir  Richard,  after  fightin'  him. 
He  changed  sides  there,  an's  now  on  ours.  Ye 
hcerd  that,  han't  you  ?  " 


A  GRAND   SERGEANT  OF   GUARD.  153 

"  Deed,  yes.  An*  more  ;  heerd  why.  'Tvvas  all 
throuf^h  a  sweet  face  him  seed  there — so  be  the 
word   'bout  Ruardean." 

"  Well ;  I  hope  her  won*t  disappoint  he,  after  his 
doin'  that  for  her.  Better  nor  braver  than  he  an't 
in  this  big  town  o'  Bristol.  But,  Win,  dear,"  he 
added,  changing  tone,  and  slinging  an  arm  round 
her  neck,  "  tan't  any  consarn  o'  ours.  Oh !  I  be 
so  glad  to  see  ye  again." 

She  knew  he  was  now. 

"Hang  it!"  he  went  on,  "I  only  weesh  my  turn 
o'  guard  was  over,  so's  I  could  go  *long  wi'  ye. 
Maybe  when  the  captain  come  back  he'll  let  me 
off  for  a  hour  or  so.  Sit  up  late,  if  ye  ain't  too 
tired.     Ye  will,  won't  ye  ?  " 

"  I  will ;  for  you  all  night,  Rob.  Ay,  till  the 
sun  o*  morning  shines  clear  in  the  sky." 

Her  passionate  and  poetic  words  were  succeeded, 
if  not  cut  short,  by  a  thumping  on  the  pavement. 
Jerky's  wooden  leg  it  was  ;  its  owner  approaching 
in  the  darkness,  the  rapid  repetition  of  the  thumps 
telling  him  to  be  in  great  haste. 

'*  Winny !  "  he  called  to  her  in  urgent  tone,  "  us 
maunt  linger  here  any  longer.  Ye  know  somethin' 
as  needs  our  bein'  quick  about  it." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  answered,  excitedly,  as  if  re- 
called to  a  duty  she  felt  guilty  of  having  trifled 
with  or  neglected.     "  I  be  ready  to  go  on.  Jack." 

The  guard-sergeant  looked  a  little  puzzled. 
There  was  a  secret,  after  all,  which  had  not  been 
confided  to  him.     What  could  it  be  .? 

Rough  Forester  though  he  had  been,  bold  soldier 
as  he  now  was,  he  lacked  the  courage,  or  rather 
the  rudeness,  to  ask.  It  might  be  a  question  un- 
welcome. 

Divining  his  thoughts,  the  woman  said  in  a 
whisper, — 


154  NO  QUARTER  I 

"  Somethin*,  Rob,  us  have  sweared  not  to  tell  o* 
to  anybody,  'till't  be  all  over  an'  done.  When*s 
I  see  you  at  the  inn  'twill  be  over,  an'  ye  shall 
hear  all  about  it/' 

"  That  be  enough,  Win  ! "  said  in  rejoinder  the 
trusting  Rob  ;  and  the  two  great  figures  went  apart 
in  the  shadowy  night,  the  separation  preceded  by 
their  lips  once  more  meeting  in  a  resonant  smack. 

On  along  the  streets  passed  the  cadger  party ; 
Jack  urging  Jinkum  to  haste  by  a  succession  of 
vociferous  "  yee-ups,"  and  now  and  then  a  sharp 
touch  of  the  stick.  He  seemed  angry  with  himself, 
or  perhaps  more  at  Winny,  for  having  tarried  so 
long  by  the  gate. 

"  Good  gracious ! "  he  exclaimed  in  a  troubled 
tone,  "  what  if  us  get  theer  too  late  ?  Ye  know, 
the  Glo'ster  governor  told  we  not  to  waste  one 
second  o'  time.  Maybe  better  keep  on  straight  to 
the  castle.     What  d'ye  say,  Winny } " 

"  It  be  but  a  step  to  Bird-i'-the-Bush,  now.  Won't 
take  we  mor'n  ten  minnits ;  that  can't  a  make 
much  difference.  An'  us  can  go  faster  when's 
we've  left  Jinkum  in  the  inn  yard." 

Thus  counselled  and  controlled,  Jack,  as  was 
customary  with  him,  gave  way ;  and  the  trio  con- 
tinued on  for  the  Bird-in-the-Bush. 


CHAPTER   XXIV, 

ON  THE  BRIDGE.     - 

The  river  Avon  bisecting  the  city  of  Bristol  was 
spanned  by  a  bridge ;  one  of  those  quaint  struc- 
tures of  the  olden  time,  with  a  narrow  causeway, 
high  tite-de-ponty  and  houses  along  each  side. 
There  were  shops  and  dwellings,  with  a  church 
of  rare  architectural  style  and  rarer  proportions — 
being  but  twenty-one  feet  in  width,  while  over 
seventy  in  length  1 

A  conspicuous  and  important  part  did  this 
bridge  of  Bristol  play  in  the  political  action  of 
the  time;  for  it  was  invested  with  a  political 
character.  Creditable,  too ;  the  dwellers  upon  it — 
the  "  Bridgemen/'  as  called — being  all  warm  parti- 
sans of  the  Parliament.  As  a  consequence,  it  was 
a  favourite  assembling-place  for  the  citizens  so 
disposed ;  especially  in  evening  hours,  after  the 
day's  work  had  been  done. 

Though  dark  and  keenly  cold  that  seventh  of 
March  night,  it  did  not  deter  a  number  of  them 
from  congregating,  as  was  their  wont,  about  the 
bridge's  head,  to  talk  over  the  news  and  events 
of  the  day,  with  the  prospects  and  probabilities 
for  the  morrow.  The  fervour  of  their  patriotism 
rendered  them  regardless  of  personal  discomfort 
or  exposure ;  just  as  one  may  see  at  a  political 
meeting  in  the  present  time  the  thronging  thou- 
sands,   packed    thick    as    mackerels    in    a    barrel, 


156  NO  quarter! 

standing  thus  for  hours,  up  till  midnight  —  ay, 
morning,  if  leave  be  allowed  them — eagerly  listen- 
ing to  hear  words  of  truth  and  promise,  with  the 
hope  of  the  promise  being  fulfilled. 

I  know  no  more  pleasing  or  grander  spectacle 
than  that  to  be  witnessed  from  a  Liberal  plat-i 
form,  a  sea  of  faces — the  faces  of  the  people — 
by  their  expression  giving  proof  of  man*s  natural 
inclinings  to  what  is  good  and  right,  and  abhor- 
rence of  what  is  wicked  and  wrong. 

Nor  can  I  conceive  any  shabbier  spectacle  than 
the  crowd  which  usually  displays  itself  before  a 
platform  where  Toryism  is  preached.  For  there 
assemble  all  who  are  the  foes  of  liberty,  the 
enemies  and  oppressors  of  mankind. 

Among  the  friends  of  liberty  that  night  gath- 
ered upon  the  bridge  of  Bristol  were  several 
men  armed  and  wearing  uniform ;  soldiers,  thouo^h 
not  belonging  to  any  regiment  of  the  regular 
army.  Volunteers,  they  were ;  a  force  then  for 
the  first  time  heard  of  in  England,  taking  the 
place  of  the  militia  or  "trained  bands."  They 
were  on  guard  with  a  young  officer  in  command, 
one  who  afterwards  made  name  and  fame  in  the 
annals  of  his  country,  and  his  sword  sharply  felt 
by  its  enemies.  For  it  was  Captain  John  Birch — 
the  merchant  soldier. 

The  writers  of  the  Restoration  have  flung  their 
defiling  mud  at  this  brave  man  —  which  did  not 
stick,  however — by  representing  him  as  of  humble 
birth,  and  mean  calling  —  a  common  carrier,  the 
driver  of  a  pack-horse,  —  stigmas  similar  to  that 
cast  at  Cromwell,  the  brewer  of  Huntingdon.  But 
it  should  be  remembered  that  in  those  days  trade 
was  not  deemed  degrading ;  and  if  here  and 
there  aristocratic  noses  were  turned  up  at  it,  here 
and    there    also    aristocratic    people    took    a    hand 


OK   THE  BRIDGfi.  1$7 

in  it.  What  were  the  Coningsbys,  those  types  of 
the  Cavalier  idea,  but  soap-boilers  and  soap- 
chandlers,  holding  a  monopoly  from  the  King  for 
the  making  and  selling  of  this  useful  commodity? 
As  for  John  Birch,  he  was  neither  base-born  nor 
of  humble  occupation ;  instead,  engaged  in  honour- 
able merchandise,  and,  for  the  times,  on  a  some- 
what extensive  scale.  His  correspondence,  extant, 
so  far  from  proving  him  coarse  or  illiterate,  shows 
both  refinement  and,  education  beyond  most  of  his 
contemporaries — soldier  or  civilian — even  superior 
to  that  of  the  King  himself. 

In  intelligence  and  courage  few  were  his  equals, 
while,  as  a  partizan  leader,  he  is  entitled  to  first 
place  ;  some  of  his  feats  in  the  guerilla  line  read- 
ing more  like  the  fictions  of  troubadour  romance. 

One  of  the  earliest  and  most  ardent  espousers 
of  the  Parliamentary  cause,  he  had  enrolled  this 
company  of  Bristol  volunteers  —  most  of  them 
"  Bridgemen  **  —  with  a  detail  of  whom  on  the 
bridge  itself  he  was  now  keeping  guard  ;  not  so 
much  against  an  outside  enemy,  but  one  within 
the  city's  walls.  Bristol  was  full  of  Cavalier 
officers,  prisoners  in  its  gaols,  but  many  of  them 
freely  circulating  through  the  streets  on  parole  — 
ready  to  break  it  if  they  but  saw  the  chance,  as 
some  of  them,  to  their  eternal  disgrace,  actually 
did ;  though  it  failed  to  disgrace  them  in  the  eyes 
of  their  Royal  master,  who  rather  »  the  more 
favoured  them  after — as  with  Vavasour — promoting 
them  to  higher  command ! 

The  treason  not  only  winked  at,  but  fostered, 
by  the  deposed  governor — now  in  the  prison  ojf 
Berkeley  Castle  —  had  not  all  been  trodden  out, 
but  was  still  rampant,  and  ready  to  raise  its 
Hydra  head ;  so  that  Colonel  Nathaniel  Fiennes 
had  his  hands   full   in   keeping   it   under.      But   he 


IS8  NO  quarter! 

could  not  have  had  a  better  man  to  help  him 
than  John  Birch.  The  young  captain  of  Volun- 
teers was  especially  prepared  for  this  duty ;  since 
he  had  himself  suffered  from  the  late  governor's 
delinquency  —  the  insult  of  having  been  placed 
under  arrest.  So,  tempered  to  vigilance,  if  not 
revenge,  he  held  guard  upon  the  bridge-head, 
watchful  and  wary,  carefully  scrutinising  all  who 
passed  over  it. 

While  thus  engaged  he  saw  a  party  approaching 
of  such  singular  composition  as  to  attract  him 
more  than  common.  Little  man  with  a  wooden 
leg ;  tall  woman  nearly  twice  the  man's  height ; 
between  the  two  a  donkey,  with  pair  of  panniers — 
Jack,  Winny,  and  Jinkum. 

If  Birch  was  not  himself  a  pack-horse  carrier, 
in  his  capacity  of  trading  merchant  he  was  well 
acquainted  with  all  the  country  routes,  and  the 
modes  of  traffic  and  transit  thereon.  At  a  glance 
he  took  in  the  character  of  the  cadgers ;  saw 
they  were  rustics  fresh  from  the  country;  and, 
by  the  direction  from  which  they  were  approach- 
ing, concluded  they  must  have  made  entry  at  the 
gate  towards  Gloucester.  On  the  bridge  there 
was  light  in  plenty,  both  from  lamps  and  shops ; 
and,  as  they  came  close,  a  scrutiny  of  their 
features  gave  the  sharp-witted  captain  an  idea 
that  they,  too,  were  of  quick  wit,  especially  the 
woman.  She  looked  like  one  who  did  not  tramp 
the  roads  without  seeing  what  was  to  be  seen,  ^ 
and  hearing  all  that  could  be  heard ;  one,  more- 
over, capable  of  forming  a  correct  estimate  of  how 
things  stood,  social,  political, ,  or  military.  If  from 
Gloucester,  or  even  Berkeley,  she  or  the  man 
might  have  picked  up  some  scraps  of  news  worth 
extracting  from  them. 

Stepping  out   into   the   middle  of  the  causeway, 


ON   THE  BRIDGE.  159 

he  confronted  the  cadger  party,  and  brought  it  to 
a  stop,  with  the  interrogation : 

"Whence  come  you,  my  worthy  people?*' 

"Frae  Gloster,  yer  honner,"  responded  Jack, 
spokesman  by  right  of  sex  and  seniority. 

"And  what's  your  business  in  Bristol.?" 

"Only  our  reg'lar  business,  sir.  As  ye  see,  us 
be  cadgers." 

"But  your  panniers  appear  to  be  empty!"  said 
the  officer,  peeping  into  and  giving  them  a  shake. 
"How  is  that?'' 

The  question  was  awkward,  nonplussing  Jerky, 
and,  the  second  time,  calling  for  explanation  from 
his  sister ;   who,  however,  promptly  vouchsafed  it 

**Ye  see,  master,  us  be  come  to  Bristol  to  take 
back  some  things  Gloster  way,  an'  far  ayont.  Us 
belong  to  the  Forest  o*  Dean." 

"Ah!  All  that  way  off.  And  when  left  you 
the  Forest  country?" 

"A  good  week  agone,  yer  honner,"  Jerky  giving 
the  response. 

"At  least  that,  I  should  say,"  rejoined  the 
officer,  with  a  look  at  the  wooden  leg.  "Well, 
you  must  have  seen  and  met  many  people  upon 
the  road,  especially  between  this  and  Gloucester. 
Can  you  tell  me  whether " 

He  ceased  speech  abruptly,  seeing  it  was  over- 
heard by  the  street  passengers,  who,  attracted  by 
the  oddness  of  the  group,  had  begun  to  gather 
round  it. 

He  was  about  to  demand  of  the  cadgers,  sotto 
voce,  where  they  intended  putting  up,  with  a  view 
to  further  conference,  when  a  man  of  herculean 
stature — soldier  in  cavalry  uniform — made  appear- 
ance inside  the  circle  of  bystanders,  going  straight 
up  to  the  woman,  and  speaking  some  words,  as 
one  who  had  fan^iliar  acc^uaintance  with  h^r^ 


i6o  NO  quarter! 

"Ah!  Sergeant  Wilde,"  said  the  Volunteet 
officer,  "  you  know  these  people,  do  you  ? " 

"  I  ought  to,  Captain.  All  o'  us  war  born  an* 
brought  up  in  the  Forest  o*  Dean,  not  very  fai 
apart." 

"  Enough,"  said,  or  rather  thought.  Birch,  who, 
after  a  whispered  word  with  the  colossal  trooper, 
gave  permission  for  the  cadger  party  to  pass  on 
over  the  bridge. 

Rob  went  with  them ;  soon  as  beyond  earshot 
of  the  crowd,  saying : 

"  Dear  Win !  I  ha'  got  leave  o'  guard  duty  for 
the  whole  o*  an  hour.  Captain  Trevor  corned 
back  to  the  gate  'most  the  minnit  ye  left  it. 
When  I  tolt  him  who'd  passed  through,  it  war, 
'Rob,  go  and  see  to  their  bein'  stowed  in  com- 
fortable quarters.'     Kind  o'  him,  warn't  it?" 

"  Deed  war  it,"  answered  Win,  but  without  think- 
ing it  strange ;  her  woman's  instinct  told  her  the 
why  and  wherefore  of  Captain  Trevor's  kindness. 

Jerky  seemed  less  satisfied  than  either  of  the 
other  two ;  for  a  reason  he  knew  of,  equally 
known  to  his  sister.  That  detention  on  the 
bridge's  head  had  been  torture  to  him ;  it  might 
forfeit  the  reward  promised  and  expected.  She 
cared  less  for  it,  hers  already  gained,  in  having 
her  beloved  Rob  once  more  by  her  side. 

The  two,  talking  of  old  things  and  times,  might 
have  lagged  upon  the  way,  had  Jack  given  them 
time  and  opportunity,  which  he  did  not ;  on 
the  contrary,  urging  greater  haste  than  ever,  while 
persuading  Jinkum  to  make  still  better  speed  by  a 
multiplication  of  "gee-ups,"  and  a  storm  of  solid 
thwacks  administered  by  the  cudgel. 

But  they  had  not  reached  the  Bird  in  the 
Bush — were  scarce  beyond  sight  of  the  people 
who  saw   them  depart   from   the   bridge— when   hq 


ON  THE  BRIDGE.  l6l 

who  had  just  held  speech  with  them  was  accosted 
by  one  whose  speech  and  air  told  that  she,  too  — 
for  it  was  a  woman — had  a  secret  to  communicate ; 
but,  unlike  the  cadgeress,  wanted — was  impatient — 
to  reveal  it.  And  altogether  unlike  the  latter 
otherwise  was  the  new  applicant  for  converse  with 
Captain  Birch — so  far  as  could  be  seen  of  her — 
for  she  was  cloaked  and  hooded.  But  when  the 
,  hood  was  tossed  back,  so  that  she  could  herself 
'  see  and  speak  freely,  a  face  was  revealed,  beautiful 
and  of  delicate  outlines,  unmistakably  that  of  a 
lady. 

That  she  was  not  unknown  to  the  young- 
Volunteer  officer  might  be  told  from  the  start 
of  surprise  at  seeing  her.  Still  better  proof  of 
their  being  acquainted  in  the  words  she  addressed 
to  him,  spoken  in  panting  haste  and  excitedly. 
He  had  said,  interrogatively: 

"  What's  brought  you  hither,  Marian  ? "  to  get 
for  response,  "You^  John;  your  life's  in  danger." 

"How?     From  what.?" 

"Treason.  Even  now — at  this  minute — there  are 
conspirators  armed  and  ready  to  start  out  into  the 
streets,  with  a  cry  for  the  King." 

"But  where.?" 

"Some  in  the  house  of  Yeomans,  others  at 
Boucher's.  They  have  expectation  of  help  from 
the  outside ;   that's  why  they're  gathered  now." 

"  How  do  you  know  it,  Marian  ? " 

"  Don't  ask  me,  John ;  God  help  me !  To 
think  my  ow^n  father  is  one  of  them — my  brother, 
too!  But  your  life  is  dearer  to  me  than  either. 
And  you  will  lose  it  if  you  don't  listen  to  my 
warning." 

"Dearest  Marian,  I  not  only  listen  to,  but  be- 
lieve in  it.  More,  I'll  take  instant  action  to  stop 
this  conspiracy  you  «neak  of,  trust  i^ie  for  that." 

M 


i62  NO  quarter! 

She  could  trust  him,  and  did ;  saw  that  t6 
leave  him  unfettered,  and  free  for  the  action 
intended,  she  should  no  longer  remain  there ;  and 
pulling  the  hood  down  over  her  face,  though  not 
till  after  two  pairs  of  lips  had  met  under  it,  she 
lightened  the  cloak  around  her  shoulders,  and 
hurried  ?way  from  the  bridge  head. 

Hear^  full  of  sweet  thoughts,  thrilled  by  them, 
the  young  merchant-soldier  stood  looking  after 
the  graceful  figure  till  it  waned  and  was  lost  in 
the  dim  light  of  distant  i  mps.  No  wonder  he 
should  so  long  continue  his  gaze.  She  was  one 
of  Bristol's  fairest  daughters;  daughter,  too,  of 
one  of  its  richest  merchants,  and  proudest ;  her 
father  a  man  who  would  have  seen  her  hurled 
from  the  parapet  of  that  bridge,  and  drowned  in 
Avon's  stream,  rather  than  know  of  her  having 
stood  upon  its  head,  and^  said  what  she  had 
said  to  John  Birch. 

Whatever  the  reflections  of  John  Birch  himself 
about  this  jealously-guarded  daughter,  they  seemed 
to  pass  away  soon  as  she  was  out  of  sight ; 
though  not  the  warning  she  had  given.  This  was 
with  him  still ;  and  so  vividly  realistic,  he  lost 
not  a  moment  in  acting  up  to  it.  A  word  or 
two  with  his  sergeant  of  guard — orders  earnestly 
enjoined — and  away  went  he  from  the  bridge, 
with  face  turned  towards  the  Castle,  and  step 
hurried  as  man  could  make,  almost  a  run  I 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

IN  COUNCIL  OF  WAR. 

The  man  who  had  succeeded  Colonel  Essex  in 
the  governorship  of  Bristol  was  well,  even  enthu- 
siastically, affected  to  the  Parliamentary  cause. 
Beyond  that,  he  was  altogether  unfitted  for  the 
trust  reposed  in'  him.  A  lawyer  before  becoming 
soldier,  he  better  understood  the  marshalling  of 
arguments  than  armies,  and,  though  a  man  of 
grave,  serious  thought,  his  passionate  temper  gave 
offence  to  friends  as  foes,  oft  thwarting  his  best 
intentions.  Fortunately  he  had  around  him  men 
of  greater  military  capacity  and  experience,  by 
whose  counsels  he  was,  to  some  extent,  controlled 
— officers  who  had  seen  service  in  the  Low  Coun- 
tries, Sweden,  and  Germany — among  them  Sir 
Richard  Walwyn. 

How  the  knight  came  to  be  in  Bristol — Eustace 
Trevor  too— may  need  making  known.  At  the 
breaking  out  of  hostilities,  when  blood  began  to 
flow,  the  Dean  Foresters  were,  in  a  way,  taken  by 
surprise,  and  for  a  time  overpowered.  In  addition 
to  their  old  enemy.  Sir  John  Wintour,  threatening 
them  on  the  south,  they  had  to  contend  with  the 
strong  and  well-disciplined  force  of  Lord  Herbert 
on  the  west ;  while  Harry  Lingen,  a  man  of  more 
capability  than  either — as  a  partizan  leader  unsur- 
passed— had  commenced  harassing  them  from  the 
Herefordshire  side. 


164  NO  quarter! 

Seeing  he  would  be  unable  to  hold  ground 
against  such  odds,  Sir  Richard,  who  had  hastily 
got  together  a  body  of  horse,  withdrew  it  from 
the  Forest,  and  joined  the  main  force  of  the  Par- 
liament, which  confronted  that  of  the  King.  At 
the  time  the  two  armies  were  manoeuvring  in 
Worcestershire,  Warwick,  and  Salop,  every  day 
expecting  to  come  into  collision,  which  they  did 
soon  after  at  Edgehill — a  drawn  battle,  with  feats 
of  daring  on  both  sides,  and  on  both  displays  of 
abject  cowardice. 

The  men  commanded  by  Sir  Richard  Walwyn 
were  not  chargeable  with  this  last ;  instead,  on  that 
day  distinguishable  by  the  first,  having  performed 
prodigies  of  valour.  Since  then  he  and  his 
Foresters  had  shown  themselves  on  other  fields, 
and  done  other  gallant  deeds,  till  the  troop  of 
horse,  with  the  "  big  sergeant,"  had  become  a  name 
of  terror  to  the  Royalist  soldiers.  Even  Rupert's 
pick  Cavaliers  would  have  shied  encounter  with  it, 
unless  they  knew  themselves  in  the  proportion  of 
two  to  one. 

By  the  drift  of  events,  this  small  but  efficient 
body  became  part  of  the  garrison  of  Bristol — dis- 
agreeable duty  to  the  Foresters,  but  forced  upon 
them   by  the  chances  of  war. 

So  in  Bristol  we  now  find  them,  with  their  com- 
manding officer  Sir  Richard,  their  **  big  sergeant  " 
Rob  Wilde,  and  for  one  of  their  captains  the  ex- 
gentleman  usher,  Eustace  Trevor.  To  explain  his 
presence  there  and  position  it  needs  but  referring 
back  to  his  words  spoken  in  that  hour  when  ( 
Lunsford  was  hammering  at  the  door  of  Hollymead 
House. 

Reverting  to  the  new  governor,  we  must  give 
him  the  credit;  of  endeavour  to  do  his  best — that 
at   least.      Entering    upon    the    office   full   of  hope 


IN  COUNCIL  OF  WAR.  l6s 

and  spirit,  he  was  correspondingly  vigorous  in  the 
execution  of  its  duties.  And  as  there  had  been 
no  time  for  his  enthusiasm  to  get  cool,  or  his 
vigour  to  become  relaxed,  before  that  7th  of  March 
— but  a  few  days  after  Essex  had  been  clapped 
under  arrest — Fiennes  w^as  in  the  very  blush  of 
energetic  activity.  Not  dining,  wining,  and  danc- 
ing, as  his  predecessor  would  have  been,  in  the 
company  of  gay  Cavaliers,  and  light-hearted,  as 
light-headed  ladies  ;  but  witiiin  one  of  the  recep- 
tion rooms  of  the  castle,  holding  counsel  with 
half-a-score  of  grave  men  —  chiefly  commanding 
officers  of  the  troops  that  composed  the  garrison 
of  the  city. 

All  were  impressed  with  the  seriousness  of  the 
situation,  feeling  themselves,  if  not  actually  be- 
sieged, likely  soon  to  be.  From  without,  reports 
were  pouring  in,  daily,  hourly,  of  reverses  sus- 
tained by  the  Parliamentarians.  The  capture  and 
massacre  at  Cirencester,  the  surrendering  of  Mal- 
mesbury,  Tewkesbury,  and  Devizes,  with  the  aban- 
donment of  Sudley  and  Berkeley  Castles, — all 
adverse  events,  following  in  quick  succession  as  the 
blows  of  a  hammer, — were  enough  to  alarm  the 
new  governor  and  the  men  in  consultation  with 
him. 

The  more,  from  their  belief  that  in  all  likelihood 
Bristol  would  be  the  next  point  aimed  at  by  the 
now  victorious  Royalists.  For  they  knew  it  wa-s 
the  quarry  these  would  most  like  to  stoop  at  and 
kill.  Ever  since  the  commencement  of  hostilities, 
it  and  Gloucester  had  been  very  thorns  in  the  side 
of  the  Royalist  party ;  both  cities  being  storehouses 
of  war  material,  and  other  effects  conducive  to  the 
supply  of  its  sinews.  But  chiefly  the  great  sea- 
port, at  once  door  of  entry  and  key  to  the  rich 
Severn    Valley — with     its    towns    and   villages    up 


l66  NO  QUARtEki 

to  Shrewsbury — while  also  commanding  the  com- 
merce and   intercourse  with  South  Wales. 

Rupert,  now  at  the  head  of  a  considerable  body 
of  troops,  held  all  the  open  country  from  the 
Severn  up  to  Oxford,  raiding  over  and  ravaging 
it  at  will.  But  the  rumour  had  got  ground  that 
he  meant  soon  to  engage  in  something  more  than 
mere  skirmishing  warfare,  by  making  a  dash  at 
Bristol,  either  to  attempt  taking  that  city  by 
assault,  or  laying  siege  to   it. 

The  assemblage  of  officers  at  the  Castle  was  in 
consequence  of  this  rumour,  which  had  just 
reached  the  Governor's  ears,  and  he  had  hastily 
called  them  together  to  have  their  views  and 
advice  upon  what  steps  had  best  be  taken  in  the 
contingency — should  it  occur. 

But,  as  already  made  known,  something  more 
than  the  enemy  without  called  for  their  considera- 
tion. The  egg  of  treason,  which  had  been  hatch- 
ing under  Essex's  too  lenient  rule,  was  not  an 
addled  one.  The  vile  bird  was  still  vigorous 
vithin  it,  threatening  to  break  the  shell.  A  gleam 
Df  warmth  and  hope,  the  touch  of  a  helping  hand, 
and  it  would  burst  forth  full  fledged,  ready  to  tear 
with  beak  and  talons.  ^ 

On  this  night  Nathaniel  Fiennes  was  unusually  ex- 
cited ;  angry  at  the  difficult  task  left  him  by  his  pre- 
decessor, just  as  might  the  Earl  of  Ripen  be  with 
Lord  Lytton,  that  ass  in  lion's  skin — now  politically 
defunct — for  demising  him  the  legacy  of  Afghanistan. 

But  the  lawyer-soldier,  however  worried  and 
over-weighted,  was  not  either  dismayed  or  dis- 
couraged. After  listening  to  what  his  fellow  coun- 
sellors had  to  say,  and  giving  his  own  views,  he 
exclaimed  in  conclusion,  and  determinedly: 

"Before  our  enemies  enter  Bristol  they'll  have  to 
pass  over  my  dead  body ! " 


IN  COUNCIL  OF  WAR,  16/ 

**And  mine,  too!"  "And  mine!"  were  echoes 
of  like  patriotic  resolve. 

All  emphatic,  though  not  all  sincere;  for  the 
loudest  of  them  came  from  the  lips  of  a  man  who 
least  meant  what  he  said.  Even  then,  Colonel 
Langrish  was  contemplating  the  treason  he  after- 
wards perpetrated. 

No  one  present  so  quietly  declared  himself  as 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn.  A  man  more  of  deeds  than 
words,  such  pompous  proclamation  was  averse  to 
his  nature,  and  pompous,  so  far  as  regarded 
Fiennes,  it  afterwards  proved.  For  the  enemy  did 
enter  Bristol,  not  over  his  dead  body,  nor  even 
fiercely  fighting  with  him,  but  by  surrender,  facile, 
and  so  much  like  being  criminal,  that  the  lawyer- 
soldier  was  himself  cast  into  prison,  not  by  foes^ 
but  those  hitherto  his  friends ;  afterwards  tried 
for  his  life,  and  let  off  as  the  son  of  Lord  Say<^ 
and  Sele,  though  without  leave  to  play  at  soldier 
ing  any  more.      But   we  anticipate. 

Returning  to  the  conference  in  the  Castle,  ii^ 
had  well-nigh  reached  conclusion,  when  the  ushe/ 
in  charge  of  the  door  entered  to  announce  a  party 
seeking  audience  of  the  Governor,  to  whom  alone 
the  communication  was  made. 

"Who   are  they?'*   demanded  Fiennes. 

"  I  don't  know,  your  Excellency.  They're  still 
outside  the  gate.  The  guard-corporal  brought  the 
message — he's  at  the  door." 

"Bring  him  in!" 

The  abrupt  order  was  with  promptness  executed ; 
and  in  twenty  seconds  after,  the  corporal  of  the 
castle  guard  stood  before  the  Governor,  saluting 
in  military  style. 

"Who  are  these  wishing  to  speak  with  me?" 
asked  the  latter. 

"  \  only  know  one  of  them,  yoyr  Excellencyj" 


i68  NO  quarter! 

returned  the  corporal.  "  That^s  Serjeant  Wilde,  of 
the  Forest  of  Dean  troop — Sir  Richard  Walvvyn's. 
The  other  two  are  a  short  man  and  a  tall  woman 
— very  tall  she  is.  The  man  has  a  wooden 
leg." 

"  If  Vm  not  mistaken,  Colonel  Fiennes,"  inter- 
posed Sir  Richard,  who,  standing  by,  overheard 
what  the  corporal  had  said,  *'  I  know  all  the  party. 
And  as  my  sergeant,  Wilde,  appears  to  be  one  of 
them,  ril  answer  for  the  honesty  of  their  pur- 
pose in  seeking  an  interview  with  you,  whatever 
it  be." 

"  Let  them  be  brought  in ! "  commanded  the 
Governor — **  all  three." 

At  which  the  guard-corporal,  once  more  saluting, 
made  "about  face,"  and  with  the  usher  disappeared 
from  the  room. 

"  Who  are  they,  Sir  Richard } "  asked  the 
Governor,   as   the  door  was  again  closed. 

"  By  the  description,"  answered  the  knight,  "  I 
identify  the  short  man  and  the  very  tall  woman 
as  cadgers,  who  follow  their  humble  calling  around 
the  Forest  of  Dean  ;  despite  the  reversed  propor- 
tions in   stature,  being  brother   and   sister.'* 

**  But  what,  think  you,  can  they  be  wanting  with 
me.?" 

"That  I  can't  say,  your  Excellency.  Though 
likely  something  of  grave  concern,  or  Rob  Wilde 
wouldn't  be  with  them  as  their  introducer.  He 
isn't  the  man  to  intrude,  without  serious  pur- 
pose." 

Their  dialogue  was  interrupted  by  sounds  in  the 
hallway  outside;  a  scraping  and  shuffling  of 
heavily-shod  feet,  with  something  that  resembled 
the  strokes  of  a  wooden  mallet  upon  the  stone 
flags,  administered  in  regular  repetition.  It  was 
110  mystery,  however,  either  to  the  Governor  or  th^ 


IN   COUNCIL   OF  WAR.  169 

knight,   both  already   aware    that  they  were  to   see 
a   man  with  a  wooden   leg. 

Which  they  did,  as  the  door  was  again  pushed 
open,  and  the  usher  entered  for  the  third  time, 
conducting  in  Jerky  Jack  and  his  sister,  the 
sergeant  bringing  up  the  rear. 


CHAPTER    XXVI. 

A    DESPATCH    CUNNINGLY    CONVEYED. 

The  officers  had  separated  into  two  groups,  one 
on  each  side  the  Governor,  as  the  odd  trinity  of 
personages  was  presented  to  him ;  these,  as  they 
came  up,  falling  into  line — Rob  on  the  right,  the 
woman  left,  and  Jack  central,  as  a  pollard  between 
two  tall  trees. 

Not  yet  aware  of  his  colonel  being  in  the  room, 
the  sergeant,  as  introducer  of  the  other  pair,  was 
about  to  make  known  their  business — of  which 
Winny  after  all  had  given  him  a  hint — when  Sir 
Richard  stepped  forward  to  interrogate  them. 
The  knight  had  received  instructions  for  this,  on 
account  of  his  acquaintance  with  the  party. 

"Well,  sergeant,"  he  said,  after  nodding  recog- 
nition to  Jack  and  his  sister,  "  what  may  your 
Forest  friends  be  wanting.'*  I  hope  they  haven't 
got  into  any  trouble  with  our  soldiers,  or  the 
Bristol  folk?" 

"  No,  Sir  Richard  ;  nothin*  o*  that  sort  what- 
soever. They  ha'  just  entered  the  city,  comin'  frae 
Gloster,  an'  wi'  a  message  from  Colonel  Massey  to 
his  honner  here."  The  speaker,  by  a  look,  in- 
dicated the  head  figure  of  the  listening  assemblage ; 
then  added,  "  They  think  it  be  somethin'  o'  very 
great  consarn,  seein'  how  the  Colonel  ha'  told  them 
not    to   lose   a   minnit   in   the  deliverin'  o't." 

At  this   all   eyes   turned   eagerly   upon   the   ca<J- 


A  DESPATCH  CUNNINGLY  CONVEYED.  17I 

gers.  A  message  from  Massey,  who  commanded 
at  Gloucester,  and  at  such  a  crisis !  It  should 
mean  something  of  importance. 

"  Perhaps  your  Excellency  would  prefer  hearing 
it  in  private  ? "  suggested  Sir  Richard,  with  a  feint 
at  withdrawing,  imitated  by  the  other  officers. 

"  No,  no ! "  rejoined  the  ci-devant  lawyer,  who, 
ynlike  his  confraternity,  was  of  aught  but  secretive 
habit.  **  Stay,  gentlemen  !  Whatever  it  be,  we're 
all  equally  interested  in  it.  Now,  my  worthy 
friends,"  he  continued,  his  glance  alternating  be- 
tween the  little  man  and  big  woman,  "  what  is 
this  matter  with  which  Colonel  Massey  has  en- 
trusted you }  You  may  speak  out  openly  and 
without  fear." 

The  words  of  encouragement  were  superfluous. 
Neither  Jerky  Jack  nor  his  sister  were  of  the  stuff 
to  be  affrighted,  though  they  stood  in  the  presence 
of  Royalty  itself.  They  had  travelled  too  far,  and 
seen  too  much  of  the  world  for  that. 

"  It  be  wrote,  yer  honner."  The  woman  it  was 
who  spoke.  "  The  thing  he's  all  put  down  on 
paper  ;  an'  Jack— my  brother,  sir — ha'  got  it  on 
him,  hid  away,  as  there  was  a  fear  us  might  meet 
the  Cavalieres." 

"Well,  you  needn't  fear  meeting  them  here.  So 
let  Jack  produce  it." 

Which  Jack  did,  though  not  presto,  on  the  in- 
stant. It  took  some  time,  with  an  amount  of 
manipulation,  before  the  secreted  despatch  could 
be  laid  open  to  the  light.  The  cadger's  artificial 
leg  had  to  be  unstrapped  and  separated  from  what 
remained  of  the  real  one ;  then  a  cavity  in  the 
former,  being  uncorked,  disclosed  to  view  a  roll  of 
paper,  bearing  resemblance  to  a  cartridge. 

This,  drawn  forth  by  Jerky  himself,  was  handed 
to   Sir   Richard,  and   passed   on   to   the   Governor ; 


172  No  quarter! 

who,  having  directed    the   temporary  withdrawal  of 
the  messenger  party,  unrolling  it,  read — 

"  Gloucester,  March  7.  —  Report  here  of 
Rupert,  with  8,000  men,  on  march  for  Bristol. 
Expected  to  arrive  before  your  gates  early  in  the 
night.  Be  careful  to  keep  them  shut.  Sorry  I 
can  do  nothing  for  you  in  the  way  of  diversion. 
Myself  pressed  on  Monmouthshire  side.  Brett  and 
Lord  John  Somerset,  with  their  Popish  crew,  have 
crossed  the  Forest,  and  are  now  threatening  us 
from  Highnam.  But  Til  hold  Gloucester  at  all 
hazards,  as  I  know  you  will  Bristol. 

"  MASSEY." 

"That  will  II"  cried  Fiennes,  in  a  fresh  burst 
of  enthusiasm,  inspired  by  the  last  words  of  the 
despatch.  **Hold  and  defend  it  to  the  death.  We 
will,  gentlemen ! " 

Needless  to  say,  they  all  again  echoed  his  re- 
solve loudly  and  determinedly  as  before. 

While  their  responses  were  still  ringing  through 
the  room,  the  door  was  once  more  pushed  open 
by  a  man  who  entered  in  haste,  without  announce- 
ment of  usher,  or  introduction  of  any  kind.  The 
expression  upon  his  features  was  sufficient  apology 
for  intrusion,  but  better  the  words  that  leaped 
from  his  lips,  soon  as  he  was  inside: 

**Your  Excellency — gentlemen  all — weVe  stand- 
ing upon  a  mine  !  " 

**  *  Standing  upon  a  mine  ! ' "  echoed  the  Governor. 
"  Explain  yourself,  Captain   Birch  !  " 

"Treason  in  our  midst — a  conspiracy — the  con- 
spirators met  at  this  very  moment." 

"Where?"  demanded  several  voices. 

"  I  heard  first  of  a  party  in  the  house  of  Robert 
Yeomans,   and   another  at   George   Boucher's.     But 


A  DESPATCH   CUNNINGLY  CONVEYED.  I73 

I've  since  been  told  about  niore  of  them  at 
Edward  Dacre's/' 

•*  And  they're  assembled  now,  you  think  ?  " 

*'  I'm  sure  of  it,  your  Excellency.  Armed,  too ; 
ready  for  rising." 

In  view  of  the  contents  of  Massey's  despatch, 
now  hastily  communicated  to  the  Volunteer  cap- 
tain, this  seemed  probable  as  intelligible.  Rupert 
to  assault  from  outside,  aweing  the  loyal  citizens 
by  an  attack,  sudden  as  unexpected  ;  the  disloyal 
ones,  these  conspirators,  to  take  advantage  of  it 
and  act  in  concert — the  programme  beyond  a 
doubt ! 

Withal,  Langrish  and  one  or  two  others  were 
disposed  to  discredit  it.  For  in  that  confidential 
council  itself  was  a  leaven  of  treason.  Luckily  not 
enough  to  control  it  ;  and  when  Fiennes  put  the 
question,  **  Shall  we  arrest  these  men  ? "  a  majority 
of  voices  declared  promptly  and  decisively  in  the 
affirmative. 

"  Captain  Birch  !  "  said  the  Governor,  once  more 
turning  to  the  young  officer  of  Volunteers,  "you 
hear  our  determination.  I  commit  this  matter  to 
you,  who  best  know  the  guilty  parties,  and  the 
places.  Take  your  own  men,  and  whatever  other 
force  you  think  necessary.  This  gentleman  will  go 
with  you  as  my  authority  for  the  requisition." 

He  referred  to  an  aide-de-camp  by  his  side, 
who,  after  receiving  some  directions  in  undertone, 
parted  from  him,  and,  with  Birch,  hastily  left  the 
room. 

Scarce  were  they  outside,  when  another  officer 
presented  himself  in  the  council  chamber ;  in 
haste  also,  and  unannounced,  on  the  plea  of  press- 
ing matter.  A  Volunteer  captain,  too ;  for  Bristol 
had  already  raised  more  tnan  one  company  of 
these   citizen   soldiers.      Captain   Jeremiah   Buck,  it 


174  NO  quarter! 

was  —  the  "  busy  mercer,"  as  the  Restoration 
writers  contemptuously  style  him.  But  whatever 
he  may  have  been  otherwise,  he  was  a  busy  sol- 
dier, too  busy  that  night  for  Royalist  likings,  and 
brought  further  intelligence  of  the  conspiracy, 
obtained  from  other  sources — confirming  that  of 
Birch. 

And,  as  the  latter,  he  also  received  instant  com- 
mands to  proceed  on  the  arrest  of  the  conspirators. 
As  there  were  several  distinct  "clatches"  of  them, 
more  than  one  force  was  needed  to  catch  them 
simultaneously. 

So  commissioned,  off  went  Buck,  to  all  appear- 
ance greatly  elated,  and  possibly  indulging  himself 
in  the  thought  of  satisfying  some  private  spite. 

Whether  or  no,  the  door  that  had  closed  behind 
him  was  still  vibrating  to  the  clash,  when  one 
who  needed  no  usher  to  announce  him  caught 
hold  of  its  handle  and  pushed  it  open,  with  an 
alacrity  which  proclaimed  him  also  the  bearer  of 
tidings  that  would  not  brook  delay. 

**What  is  it,  Trevor.?"  asked  Sir  Richard  Wal- 
wyn,  advancing  to  meet  his  troop  captain.  "Why 
have  you  left  your  guard  at  the  gate?" 

"Because,  Colonel,"  panted  out  the  young  officer, 
"  IVe  thought  it  better  to  come  myself  and  make 
sure  of  the  news  reaching  you  in  good  time,  as 
the  Governor  here." 

"What  news?" 

"Prince  Rupert  and  the  Royalist  army  reported 
outside  the  city.  A  countryman  just  come  in  says 
they  are  pitching  tents  on  Durdham  Down.  And 
his  report's  confirmed  by  what  IVe  myself  seen 
from  the  top  of  the  gate  tower." 

**  What  saw  you.  Captain  Trevor  ? "  asked  the 
Governor,  who,  with  the  other  officers,  had  been 
all  the  while  anxiously  listening. 


A  DESPATCH  CUNNINGLY  CONVEYED.         I/J 

**  A  glare  of  light,  your  Excellency  ;  such  as 
would  proceed  from  the  blaze  of  camp-fires." 

This  was  confirmation  full,  of  Massey's  warning 
despatch,  the  conspiracy,  everything.  But,  for 
better  assurance  of  it,  the  Governor,  with  the  as- 
sembled officers,  rushed  out  of  the  council  chamber 
and  up  to  the  Castle  donjon  ;  there  to  see  the 
horizon  lit  up  with  a  yellowish  glare  which,  as 
soldiers,  they  knew  to  be  the  reflection  from 
bivouac  fires.  And  a  wide  spread  of  them,  the 
sky  illumined  all  over  Durdham  Down,  away  to 
King's  Weston. 

"  Rupert  it  must  be — he,  and  his  plundering 
host ! " 

♦  ♦  3|C  ♦  ♦ 

Captain  Birch  made  quick  work  of  the  duty 
assigned  to  him.  In  less  than  twenty  minutes 
after  receiving  the  Governor's  commands,  he  stood 
before  the  door  of  Robert  Yeomans's  house,  de- 
manding admission.  He  had  the  strength  at  his 
back  to  enforce  it — his  own  Volunteers  afoot,  with 
a  body  of  horse,  lest  the  conspirators  should  escape 
by  flight.  And  some  of  both,  distributed  round 
the  house,  already  enfiladed  it. 

It  was  a  large  house,  its  owner  being  one  of  the 
wealthy  citizens  of  Bristol.  Forty  men  were  with- 
in it,  all  armed,  as  the  Volunteer  officer  had  been 
told.  At  word  of  what  was  without  they  sprang 
to  their  arms,  some  of  the  more  courageous  coun- 
selling fight.  But  when  they  looked  through  the 
windows,  saw  that  formidable  array,  and  heard  the 
stern  summons  "Surrender!"  their  hearts  failed 
them,  and  they  surrendered.  Wisely,  too.  Had 
they  resisted,  instant  death  would  have  been  their 
fate.  For,  among  the  men  with  Birch,  were  some 
fresh  from  the  affair  of  Cirencester ;  themselves 
escaped,  but  leaving  behind  friends,  relatives,  even 


176  No  QUARTER  ! 

brothers,  butchered  in  cold  blood.  Exasperated, 
maddened,  by  the  memory  of  that  slaughter — some 
of  them  with  wounds  still  unhealed  from  it — Birch, 
who  was  moderate  as  brave,  had  a  difficulty  to 
restrain  them  from  dealing  out  death  to  the 
malignants.  The  troopers  who  accompanied  him, 
smarting  under  late  reverses,  would  have  gladly 
hailed  the  order  to  *'  fall  on."  But  the  cowed  con- 
spirators submitted  like  sheep,  and  were  marched 
off  to  the  Castle,  every  man-jack  of  them  ;  there 
to  meet  other  batches  brought  in  by  Buck  and  the 
different  officers  who  had  been  detailed  for  their 
arrest. 

In  houses  here  and  there  throughout  the  city, 
parties  of  them  were  found  and  picked  up ;  all 
armed,  waiting  for  a  signal  to  sally  forth  and  shed 
the  blood  of  their  fellow- citizens.  This  has  been 
denied,  but  a  letter  from  the  barbarous  Lord 
Byron  to  Prince  Rupert  puts  the  design  beyond 
doubt  But  for  the  vigilance  of  the  merchant- 
soldier  Birch,  and  the  activity  of  the  "busy 
mercer"  Buck,  that  night  the  streets  of  Bristol 
would  have  run  blood,  and  every  house  in  it  be- 
longing to  a  Parliamentarian  been  sacked  and 
plundered.  For  the  head  plunderer,  Rupert — he 
who  introduced  the  word  to  the  English  language 
— stood  at  that  very  hour  on  the  top  of  King's 
Weston  hill,  awaiting  a  triple  signal— the  bells  of 
three  churches  to  be  rung — St.  John's,  for  sum- 
moning the  Royalist  sailors ;  that  of  St.  Nicholas, 
to  call  out  the  butchers  for  butchers'  work  con- 
genial to  them ;  while  from  the  tower  of  St. 
Mici  ael's  he  expected  to  hear  a  peal  more  es- 
pecially meant  for  himself  and  his  freebooters,  as 
it  were  saying,  "  You  may  come  on  1  The  gates 
of  Bristol  are  unbarred  for  you  ! "  s 

But  he  heard  it  not     They  who  had   been  en- 


A  DESPATCH   CUNNINGLY  CONVEYED.  \^^ 

trusted  with  the  ringing  of  that  fatal  peal  never 
rang  it.  Instead  of  bell  ropes  in  their  hands,  they 
now  had  manacles  around  their  wrists,  and  grim 
sentries  standing  guard  over  them. 

Rupert  waited,  watched,  and  listened,  till  the 
break  of  day  showed  him  the  great  seaport  of  the 
Severn  still  calm  ;  its  gates  close  shut  ;  its  walls 
and  towers  bristling  with  armed  men,  in  attitudes 
that  told  them  determined  on  its  defence. 

Thinking  he  had  been  made  a  fool  of,  and  fear- 
ing further  betrayal,  he  hastily  beat  retreat  from 
Durdham  Down  to  seek  the  pillage  of  some  city 
more  easy  of  being  entered. 

The  rising  sun  saw  his  back  turned  upon  Bris- 
tol ;  he  and  his  Cavaliers  venting  loud  curses — 
rev^iing  their  partizans  inside,  whose  misleading 
correspondence  had  lured  them  to  an  expedition 
ludicrous  as  bootless. 


CHAPTER     XXVII, 

A  CITY   OF   REFUGE. 

Of  the  Foresters  who  figure  in  our  tale,  Rob 
Wilde,  Jerky  Jack,  and  Winny  were  not  the  only 
ones  who  had  found  their  way  into  Bristol.  Most 
of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn's  troopers  were  Foresters. 
But  the  master  of  Hollymead  was  himself  there, 
with  his  daughters,  their  maid  Gwenthian,  and 
others  of  the  family  servants. 

Why  he  had  exchanged  his  Forest  home  for  a 
residence  in  town — that,  too,  in  a  city  under 
military  occupation,  threatened  with  siege  and  all 
its  inconveniences — has  been  already  in  part 
explained.  With  the  commencement  of  hostilities 
country  life  became  unsafe,  more  especially  for 
people  of  quality  and  those  who  had  anything 
to  lose.  Parties  of  armed  men  penetrated  into 
the  most  remote  districts,  demanding  contributions 
and  levying  them — at  first  in  the  name  of  the 
King.  Naturally,  this  aroused  the  spirit  of 
retaliation,  and  dictated  reprisals ;  so  that  in  time 
both  sides  became  more  or  less  blamable  for 
filibusterism.  The  weight  of  evidence,  however, 
shows  that,  as  a  rule,  the  Parliamentarian  officers 
did  all  in  their  power  to  restrain,  while  those  of 
the  Royalist  army  not  only  encouraged  but  gloried 
in  it — themselves  taking  a  hand,  A  Prince  had 
set  them  the  lesson,  making  robbery  fashionable, 
and  they  were  neither  backward  nor  3low  ip 
profiting  by  it 


A  CITY  OF  REFUGE.  179 

As  a  sample  of  the  spirit  in  which  the  Cavaliers 
made  war,  thus  wrote  Sir  John,  afterwards  Lord 
Byron — the  same  truculent  ruffian  already  alluded 
to,  commanding  a  body  of  the  King's  horse — 
"  /  put  them  all  to  the  sword,  which  I  find  to  be 
the  best  way  to  proceed  with  these  kind  of  people^ 
for  mercy  to  them  is  cruelty^ 

The  gallant  defenders  of  Barthomley  Church 
were  "these  kind  of  people,"  whom  this  monster, 
ungrammatical    as    inhuman,   had    massacred   to   a 


man 


Fighting  under  such  faith,  no  wonder  the  lex 
talionis  soon  displayed  itself  on  both  sides,  and 
in  bitterest,  most  relentless  form.  Not  only  had 
the  main  routes  of  travel  become  unsafe,  but 
sequestered  country  roads ;  while  the  sanctity  of 
private  houses  was  invaded,  and  women  subjected 
to  insult,  oft  even  to  the  disregarding  of  their 
tionour.  This  was  conspicuously  the  case  in  the 
districts  where  the  Cavaliers  had  control,  no 
decent  woman  daring  to  show  herself  abroad 
Even  high-born  ladies  feared  encountering  them, 
if  having  father  or  brother  on  the  Parliamentary 
side.  Some  dames,  however,  who  favoured  their 
side,  were  bold  and  free  enough  with  them ;  and 
a  very  incarnation  of  female  shamelessness  was  the 
strumpet  following  of  Rupert. 

As  known,  Ambrose  Powell  had  at  first  thought 
of  fortifying  Hollymead,  and  holding  it  with  his 
servants,  retainers,  and  such  of  the  Foresters  as 
he  could  rally  around  him ;  of  whom  he  had 
reason  to  believe  many  would  respond  to  his 
call.  The  haw-haw  around  the  house  was  sug- 
gestive of  his  doing  so — itself  an  outer  line  of 
defence,  which  could  be  easily  strengthened.  It 
but  needed  a  parapet  of  gabions^  or  fascines^  to 
render    it    unassailable,    save    in     the     face    of    a 


i8o  NO  quarter! 

scathing  fire.  And  he  had  the  wherewith  to 
deliver  this,  having  long  expected  the  coming 
storm,  and  stored  up  materials  to  meet  it.  One 
of  the  chambers  of  Hollymead  House  was  a  very 
armoury  and  ordnance  room,  full  of  the  best 
weapons  of  the  time,  which  his  great  wealth  had 
enabled  him  to  provide — muskets  of  the  snap-hans 
fire,  pistols,  pikes,  and  halberds.  They  but  wanted 
putting  into  hands  capable  of  making  efficient  use 
of  them. 

And  he  himself  had  but  waited  for  Sir  Richard 
Walwyn's  advice,  as  to  whether  he  should  attempt 
holding  Hollymead,  or  abandon  it.  He  knew  he 
must  do  one  or  the  other.  His  partizanship,  long 
since  proclaimed  and  known  beyond  the  borders 
of  the  Forest,  with  the  echoes  returning,  so 
admonislied  him. 

"  Could  it  be  held,  think  you  1 "  he  asked  of  the 
soldier  knight,  on  the  evening  of  his  arrival  with 
Eustace  Trevor — Sir  Richard  and  his  host  alone 
closeted  in  conversation. 

"  Impossible ! "  was  the  answer,  backed  up  by 
convincing  reasons.  *'  Were  it  a  structure  of 
stone,  I  might  say  Yes,  easily  enough ;  with  a 
force  numerous  enough  to  garrison  it.  But  those 
wooden  beams,  and  roofs  dry  as  tinder — they'd  be 
set  ablaze  by  the  first  arrow  sent  at  them." 

The  reader  may  fancy  Sir  Richard's  allusion  to 
arrows  was  a  figure  of  speech,  or  anachronism.  It 
was  neither.  For  this  primitive  weapon,  almost 
universal  among  savage  men,  was  not  then 
obsolete,  or  out  of  the  hands  of  the  civilized.  In 
the  army  of  Essex — the  Lord  General  himself — 
was  a  corps  of  bowmen ;  and  others  elsewhere. 
The  belief  in  the  bent  yew  stick  and  feathered 
shaft,  that  had  gained  for  England  such  renown 
at   Cressy   and   Agincourt,  was  still    strong    in   the 


A  CITY  OF   REFUGE.  l8l 

days  of  her  more  glorious  struggle — the  Great 
Rebellion. 

But  it  was  not  to  shafts  of  this  kind  the  knight 
had  reference;  instead,  arrows  projected  from 
muskets  and  arquebusses  for  setting  fire  to 
assailed  forts  and  houses — a  species  of  ordnance 
which  then  formed  part  of  the  equipment  of  every 
well-appointed  corps  (Tarmie, 

With  the  master  of  Holly  mead  the  argument 
was  conclusive.  He  saw  his  house  could  not  be 
held,  with  any  hope  of  successful  defence,  if 
attacked  by  a  force  strong  and  determined.  And 
that  such  would  come  against  it  he  had  been  as 
good  as  sure,  ever  since  that  hour  when  Reginald 
Trevor  placed  in  his  hands  the  letter  of  Loan  by 
Privy  Seal — altogether  sure,  when  Lunsford,  later, 
came  to  make  the  levy  itself. 

Only  a  day  or  two  longer  had  he  remained  in 
it,  to  pack  up  his  plate,  with  other  cherished 
penates,  and  have  them  transmitted  to  a  place  of 
safety — to  Gloucester — -the  nearest  city  promising 
asylum  to  the  harried  partisans  of  tlie  Parliament 
— going  thither  himself  with  his  family. 

He  had,  however,  made  but  short  stay  there. 
The  seaport  of  Bristol  beyond  was  a  "  city  of 
refuge  '*  more  to  his  mind,  because  of  a  house  in 
it  that  offered  him  hospitality — a  sister's — and 
under  its  roof  he  and  his  were  sojourning  on  that 
night  of  dread  danger,  averted  almost  as  soon  as 
apprehended. 

Nor  in  that  crisis  was  the  refugee  from  Dean 
Forest  himself  inactive.  When  men  stood  gazing 
ivith  eyes  full  of  keen  apprehension  at  the  fire-glare 
over  Durdham  Down,  Ambrose  Powell  was  moving 
briskly  through  Bristol's  streets,  urging  its  citizens 
to  arm  and  defend  it.  Along  with  him  a 
clergyman,   who    added    his    appeal   with    eloquent 


1 82  NO  quarter! 

tongue  and  passionate  speech.  He  was  Tombes, 
of  Leominster,  who  had  been  mobbed  in  that 
town  of  woolstaplers,  and  driven  out  of  it  by- 
drunken  roughs ;  no  doubt  the  progenitors  of 
those  who  in  the  late  Parliamentary  election  in 
like  manner  dishonoured  themselves. 

To  Darwin's  transmutation  and  improvement 
theory,  the  human  animals  of  Leominster  seem 
to  be  an  exception ;  especially  as  regards  the 
improvement,  for  its  Jingo  cur  of  to-day  is  rather 
a  falling  off  from  the  quality  of  his  prototype— 
the  Cavalier  wolf  of  the  Great  war  time. 


CHAPTER  XXVIIL 

A  HOME  GAYER  THAN  CONGENIAL. 

Madame  Lalande,  n^e  Powell,  was  the  widow  of  a 
West  Indian  planter,  late  deceased.  Her  husband, 
during  life,  had  held  commercial  intercourse  with 
Bristol,  then  chief  port  of  communication  with  all 
the  Transatlantic  colonies.  Though  a  Creole  of 
French  descent,  the  isle  of  his  nativity,  in  the 
Antilles,  had  come  under  British  rule ;  and  he 
himself  rather  affected  English  tastes  and  habits, 
often  visiting  England  and  making  short  sojourns 
in  it.  At  a  Bristol  ball  he  had  first  met  Gwen- 
doline Powell,  Ambrose's  sister ;  had  married  in  \^ 
Bristol,  and  there  designed  spending  the  evening 
of  his  days  m  retirement  from  the  cares  of  business 
life.  And  when  the  time  at  length  came  for  carry- 
ing this  design  into  execution,  he  sold  off  his  West 
Indian  plantation — an  extensive  one,  with  its  human 
chattels,  some  hundreds  in  number — and  invested 
the  proceeds  in  Bristol  property,  part  of  it  being 
a  handsome  dwelling-house  meant  for  his  future 
home. 

Into  this  he  had  entered  about  a  year  before 
the  commencement  of  the  civil  strife,  which  he 
lived  not  to  see.  The  cold,  moist  climate  of  our 
island,  so  different  to  that  of  the  tropical  Antilles, 
was  fatal  to  him,  and  in  less  than  twelve  months 
after  settling  on  the  Avon's  banks  he  was  buried 
there^  having  succumbed  to  an  attack  of  pleurisy. 


184  NO  QtJARTER! 

Possibly  fast  living  may  have  had  something  to  do 
with  it.  He  was  a  man  of  social  inclinings  and 
sumptuous  habits,  which  his  great  wealth  enabled 
him  to  indulge- without  stint;  and  he  had  recklessly 
disregarded  the  care  of  his  health. 

Fortunately  for  those  who  inherited  his  property, 
his  life  of  extravagance  had  not  been  long  enough 
to  dissipate  it,  and  Madame  Lalande  was  still  one 
of  the  wealthiest  women  in  Bristol,  with  no  one 
to  share  her  wealth,  save  an  only  daughter,  a  girl 
of  some  eighteen  summers,  or,  to  speak  more  cor- 
rectly, one  summer  of  eighteen  years  in  length. 
For  the  occasional  visits  to  England  with  her  father 
and  mother  had  been  made  in  this  season,  the  rest 
of  her  life  spent  in  a  land  where  winter  is  un- 
known. All  summer  her  life  in  every  sense ;  from 
her  cradle  not  a  wish  denied,  or  taste  ungratified, 
but  everything  lavished  upon  her  which  money 
could  purchase  or  parental  fondness  bestow. 

As  a  consequence,  Clarisse  Lalande  had  grown 
up  a  spoilt  child  ;  and  now  that  she  was  almost  a 
woman,  the  fruits  of  such  folly  made  themselves 
manifest.  Imperious  and  capricious,  she  had  a 
temper  which  would  not  brook  restraint.  For  this 
it  had  never  known,  accustomed  all  her  life  to 
the  obeisance  of  black  slaves,  and  the  flattery  of 
mulatto  hand- maidens. 

Flattery  from  others  she  had  received  too — a 
very  incense  of  it — which  her  beauty,  without 
thought  of  her  prospective  wealth,  commanded. 
For  a  beauty  she  was,  of  the  true  Creole  type, 
with  all  its  characteristics  ;  the  golden  brown  tint 
of  skin,  the  crimson  flush  of  cheeks,  the  brilliancy 
of  dark  eyes,  with  a  luxuriance  of  hair  that  defied 
confinement  by  ordinary  clasp  or  comb.  There  was 
the  suspicion  of  a  **  wave "  in  it ;  and  report  said 
that  the  blood  in  her  lather's  veins  had   not  been 


A   ttOM£  GAYER  THAN    CONGENIAL.  185 

pure  Circassian,  but  with  a  slight  admixture  of 
Ethiopian.  All  the  more  piquant  were  the  charms 
it  had  transmitted  to  his  daughter,  as  the  star-like 
fire  in  her  biiwn  black  eyes,  and  a  figure  of 
grandly  volupti^ous  outline.  Some  of  her  mental 
characteristics,  too,  may  have  come  from  it — a 
certain  sensuousness,  with  the  impatience  of  control 
already  adverted  to. 

Such  being  Clarisse  Lalande,  it  scarce  needs  say- 
ing that  between  her  and  her  cousins  Powell  there 
was  little  congeniality  either  of  tastes  or  senti- 
ments. Though  in  person  more  resembling  Sabrina, 
the  two  were  mental  antipodes ;  while  sunbright 
Vaga,  who  looked  altogether  unlike  her  dark- 
skinned  Creole  cousin,  had  yet  certain  similar  traits 
of  temper ;  the  which  made  mutual  antipathy,  at 
first  sight,  as  when  alkali  and  acid  come  into  con- 
tact It  afterwards  became  heart-hatred,  inspired 
and  nursed  by  the  most  powerful  of  influences. 

Considering  that  Madame  Lalande  was  Ambrose 
Powell's  sister,  and  that  her  late  husband  had  been 
a  Protestant  of  Huguenot  ancestry — at  least  four- 
fifths  of  him — one  would  naturally  expect  her  to 
be  on  the  Parliamentary  side — supposing  her  to 
take  a  side  at  all — with  ardent  inclinings  thereto. 
Ardent  inclinings  had  she,  and  side  she  took ;  but, 
strange  perversity,  against  the  Parliament,  not  for 
it! 

And     it    was    like     mother,    like     daughter,     for 

Clarisse,   with    all    her    frivolousness    of    character, 

had     political     leanings      too,     or     more     properly 

caprices,    the    frivolity   itselt     their   cause.       In    the 

eyes   of  the   imperious   young   lady    Roundheadism 

^     and    Puritanism    were   things   of  reproach,    and    the 

F     terms     themselves     often    scornfully    on    her    lips. 

[     Kingly   form  of  government  was   the   only  one   fit 

for  gentlepeople ;    and    Cavaliers   alone  worthy  to 


1 86  NO  quarter} 

associate  with  such  as  she — those  curled  dariings, 
"  dear  delightful  creatures,"  as,  in  her  fond  par- 
tiality, she  was  accustomed  to  call  them. 

Wonderfully  hospitable  was  Madame  Lalande ; 
that  is,  in  a  fashionable  way.  She  gave  grand 
entertainments,  which  was  indeed  but  continuing 
what  had  been  done  before  the  death  of  her 
husband.  Nor  was  it  so  long  after  that  event  they 
were  recommenced,  and  carried  on  with  greater 
Mat  than  ever.  For  Clarisse  had  become  a  toast 
and  now  an  heiress — sole  and  safe  from  any 
possibility  of  late-born  brother  or  sister  to  share 
the  demised  wealth.  There  was  keen  competition 
for  the  favour  of  her  smiles.  Knights  and  baronets 
were  flitting  about  in  plenty,  with  here  and  there 
an  earl ;  and  as  her  ambitious  mother  aimed  at 
having  a  titled  son-in-law,  so  spread  she  the  ban- 
quet to  allure  them. 

During  the  brief  rule  of  the  gay  Essex,  as  a 
matter  of  course  Madame  Lalande's  house  was 
open  to  him  ;  and  so  frequently  was  he  its  guest, 
there  had  been  talk  of  an  attraction  in  it  beyond 
the  delights  of  the  dinner  table  or  the  joys  of  the 
dance.  He  was  not  a  lord  ;  but,  as  the  son  of  one, 
in  all  probability  some  day  would  be. 

Alas !  for  any  matrimonial  designs  Madame 
Lalande  might  have  upon  the  rollicking  Colonel 
for  her  daughter,  her  chances  of  showing  him 
further  hospitality  were  brought  to  an  abrupt  end, 
by  his  heels  getting  kicked  up  in  a  different  way, 
and  himself  carried  off  a  prisoner  to  Berkeley 
Castle. 

Withal  the  festivities  in  the  house  of  the  planter's 
relict  went  on  as  usual — nearly  every  night  some- 
thing of  dinner  party,  and  during  the  day  recep- 
tions. If  there  was  suffering  in  other  homes  of 
Bristol  through   the    state  of   semi-siege   in   which 


A    HOME  GAYER   THAN   CONGENIAL.  1 87 

the  place  was  then  held,  nothing  of  this  affected 
the  home  oT  the  rich  West  Indian  widow.  There 
all  was  gaiety  and  splendour. 

Yet  it  had  inmates  who  took  little  delight  in  its 
joys,  and  one  who  detested  them — that  one  Ambrose 
Powell.  A  new  style  of  life,  with  a  companion- 
ship altogether  uncongenial,  was  it  to  him ;  and, 
but  for  its  being  forced  upon  him  by  the  necessity 
of  circumstances,  he  would  not  have  continued  it  a 
sringle  day — not  an  hour.  It  was  many  long  years 
since  he  had  last  met  his  sister  ;  and,  remembering 
her  as  a  guileless  country  girl — almost  portionless 
too — seeing  her  now  a  sharp  woman  of  the  world, 
wealthy  and  devoted  to  ideas  of  frivolity  and 
fashion, — above  all,  finding  her  changed  from  the 
political  faith  of  their  common  father  and  family, 
he  was  alike  surprised  and  shocked — angry,  more- 
over, to  the  point  of  reproaching,  even  scolding 
her ;  and  would  have  done  so,  but  for  the  ques- 
tion "  Cui  bofto  ? "  which  had  negative,  though 
silent,  answer  in  all  he  saw  around.  His  dear 
sister  Gwen,  who  in  earlier  days  would  have 
humbly  listened  to  his  counsels,  and  been  con- 
trolled by  them,  would  now  resent  the  meekest 
suggestion  as  to  her  way  of  life  or  the  conduct  pf 
her  affairs. 

Many  a  time,  after  becoming  her  guest,  did  he 
regret  having  passed  on,  and  beyond  Gloucester, 
to  seek  an  asylum  in  Bristol.  But  he  was  in 
Bristol  now,  he  and  his ;  and  how  to  ,get  out  of  it 
was  not  a  mere  question  of  inconvenience,  but  a 
matter  of  great  difficulty,  attended  with  danger. 
Though  not  so  close  to  the  door,  after  that  7th  of 
March  night,  the  wolves  were  still  without,  on  the 
roads — ravening  everywhere. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

THE   NIGHT   OWL. 

The  conspiracy  having  been  nipped  in  the  bud, 
and  the  conspirators  in  prison,  Bristol  again 
breathed  freely.  The  approaches  to  it  were  once 
more  open,  the  thwarted  Royahsts  having  with- 
drawn to  a  distance  ;  so  that  Jerky  Jack  might 
have  made  the  return  trip  to  Gloucester  with  a 
despatch  stuck  in  the  band  of  his  hat  safe  as  if 
inside  his  wooden  leg. 

But  swifter  messengers  traversed  that  road  now, 
cleared  of  the  enemy  at  both  ends,  and  on  both 
sides  of  the  river  Severn.  • 

He  who  had  effected  this  clearance  was  Sir 
William  Waller,  jocularly  styled  "  William  the 
Conqueror,"  from  the  succession  of  victories  he 
had  late  achieved.  Also  was  he  known  as  the 
"  Night  Owl ; "  a  sobriquet  due  to  his  habit  of 
making  nocturnal  expeditions  that  oft  took  the 
Royalists  by  surprise.  No  Crophead  he,  but  a 
Cavalier  in  the  true  sense  ;  a  very  Paladin — withal 
a  Christian  .gentleman.  He  had  separated  from 
slow-going  Lord-General,  and  made  one  of  his 
bold  dashes  down  to  the  shires  bordering  Wales ; 
first  relieving  Gloucester,  which  was  in  a  manner 
besieged  by  the  Monmouthshire  levies  of  Lord 
Herbert.  The  besiegers  were  not  only  brushed  off, 
but  the  main  body  of  them  either  killed  or  cap- 
tured ;  only  a  scant  residue  escaping  to  their  fast- 


THE  NIGHT  OWL.  1§9 

nesses  beyond  the  Wye  ;  whither  the  "  Conqueror " 
followed,   chastising  them  still  further. 

Returning  across  the  Forest  of  Dean,  he  out- 
witted the  Royalist  troops  under  Prince  Maurice  ; 
and,  once  m^rfe  setting  face  westward,  raided 
through  Herefordshire  on  to  its  chief  city — which 
he  captured,  with  a  flock  of  foul  birds  that  had 
been  roosting  there  ever  since  its  abandonment  by 
the   Parliamentarians  under  the  silly  Stamford. 

But  the  "  Night  Owl "  himself  was  not  the  bird 
to  remain  long  on  perch  anywhere;  and,  gathering 
up  his  captured  game — a  large  bag,  including  some 
of  Herefordshire's  best  blood,  as  the  Scudamores, 
Conningsbys,  and  Pyes — he  rounded  back  to  GIom- 
cester,  and  on  to  Bristol. 

Not  to  tarry  here,  either.  Soon  as  he  had  dis- 
embarrassed himself  of  his  captive  train — committed 
to  the  keeping  of  Fiennes — he  was  off  again  into 
Somersetshire,  there  to  measure  swords  with 
Maurice  and  the  Marquis  of  Hertford.  As  he 
rode  out  through  the  Bath  gate  at  the  head  of  a 
troop  of  steel-clad  cuirassiers — "  Hesselrig's  Lob- 
sters"— the  citizens  of  Bristol  felt  more  confident 
of  safety  than  ever  since  the  strife  began.  For 
now  they  were  assured  against  danger,  outside  as 
within.  Internal  treason  had  been  awed,  the 
traitors  cowed  and  crushed,  by  what  had  befallen 
the  conspirators  of  March  the  Seventh.  The  two 
chiefs  of  them,  Yeomans  and  Boucher,  had  been 
tried,  found  guilty,  and  sentenced  to  death — a 
sentence  soon  afterwards  carried  into  execution. 
Grand  efforts  were  made  to  get  them  off;  the  King 
himself,  by  letter,  threatening  to  retaliate  upon  the 
poor  captives  taken  at  Cirencester — such  of  them 
as  remained  unmurdered.  Old  Patrick,  Earl  of 
Forth,  his  Majesty's  Lieutenant-General,  was  put 
forward    as    the    writer    of   the    barbarous    epistle. 


100  NO  QUARTER! 

But  canny  Scot  and  accomplished  soldier  as  his 
lordship  might  be,  in  a  polemical  contest  he  was 
no  match  for  the  lawyer,  Fiennes,  who  flung  the 
threat  back  'in  his  teeth,  saying  : 

"  The  men  we  have  tried  and  condemned  are 
not  soldiers,  but  spies  and  conspirators.  The  pri- 
soners you  took  at  Cirencester  are  prisoners  of  war. 
I  would  have  you  observe  the  distinction.  And 
know,  too,  that  for  every  hair  of  their  heads  that 
falls,  I  will  hang  ten  of  your  curled  Cavaliers — 
make  Bristol  a  shambles  of  them." 

Though  not  Nathanier  Fiennes's  exact  words,  they 
convey  his  meaning  very  near.  And  he  could  and 
would  have  acted  up  to  them,  as  the  King  and  his 
counsellors  knew.  So,  whether  or  not  they  deenied 
his  argument  rational,  it  was  unanswerable,  or  at 
all  events  unanswered,  by  a  counter-threat ;  and  the 
Cirencester  prisoners  were  spared  execution,  while 
the  Bristol  conspirators  went  to  the  scaffold. 

Much  has  been  made  of  the  King's  forbearance 
in  this  affair  by  those  who  did  not,  or  would  not, 
comprehend  the  motive.  It  was  pure  fear,  not 
humanity — fear 'of  a  still  more  terrible  retaliation. 
At  that  time  the  Parliament  hdd  ten  prisoners  for 
one  in  the  hands  of  the  Royalists — men  of  such 
rank  and  quality,  his  Majesty  dared  not  put  their 
lives  in  peril,  much  less  let  them  be  sacrificed. 
He  had  his  revenge  in  secret,  however,  since  under 
his  very  nose  at  Oxford  many  of  the  hapless 
captives  from  Cirencester  miserably  perished, 
through  the  torturing  treatment  of*  the  Royal 
Provost-Marshal,    Smith. 

Finally,  the  "  two  State  martyrs  " — as  Yeomans 
and  Boucher  have  been  styled  by  the  Royalist 
writers — were  strung  up,  protesting  their  innocence 
to  the  last,  for  all  they  were  little  believed.  The 
evidence    adduced     at    their     trial    clearly    proved 


THE   NIGHT  OWL.  I9I 

intent  to  shed  the  blood  of  their  fellow-citizens ; 
else  why  were  they  and  their  co-conspirators 
armed  ?  Independent  of  this,  their  design  of 
handing  over  Bristol  to  the  rule  of  Prince 
Rupert  and  his  ruffians  meant  something  more 
than  the  mere  spilling  of  blood  in  a  street  conflict — 
it  involved  the  sack  and  pillage  of  peaceful  homes, 
the  violation  of  women,  rapine  and  ruin  in  every 
way.  It  was  only  on  getting  the  details  of  the 
trial  that  the  Bristolians  became  fully  sensible  of 
the  danger  they  had  so  narrowly  escaped  ;  con- 
vinced then,  as  Captain  Birch  worded  it,  that  they 
had  been  standing  upon  a  mine. 

Notwithstanding  all  these  occurrences  and  cir- 
cumstances running  counter  to  the  Royal  cause, 
against  which  the  tide  seemed  to  have  turned, 
within  Montserrat  House — as  the  late  Monsieur 
Lalande  had  named  his  dwelling — was  no  interrup- 
tion of  the  festive  scenes  already  alluded  to.  Its 
guests  were  as  numerous,  its  gaieties  gay  and  fre- 
quent as  ever.  For,  to  speak  truth,  the  political 
bias  of  the  planter's  widow,  as  that  of  her  daughter, 
was  but  skin  deep.  Hair  had  much  to  do  with  it ; 
and,  like  enough,  had  the  Parliamentarian  officers 
but  worn  theirs  a  little  longer,  submitted  it  to 
the  curling  tongs,  and  given  themselves  to  swearing 
and  swaggering,  in  a  genteel  Cavalier  way,  they 
would  have  been  more  welcome  to  the  hospitality 
of  her  house. 

Still  not  all  of  them  were  denied  it;  for  not 
all  were  of  the  Roundhead  type.  Among  them 
were  many  gentlemen  <^  high  birth  and  best 
manners,  some  affecting  as  fine  feathers  as  the 
Cavaliers  themselves.  For  the  "  Self-denying 
Ordinance"  had  not  yet  been  ordained,  nor  the 
Parliamentary  army  moulded  to  the  *'  new  model.'* 

In   view   of  certain   people   sojourning   in    Mont,- 


192  NO  quarter! 

serrat  House,  it  need  scarce  be  said  that  Sir  Richard 
Walvvyn  and  Eustace  Trevor  were  visitors  there. 
Even  without  reference  to  the  predilections  of 
Madame  or  Mademoiselle,  they  could  not  well  be 
excluded.  But  there  was  no  thought  of  excluding 
them  ;  both  were  unmistakably  eligible,  and  one  of 
them  most  welcome,  for  reasons  that  will  presently 
appear.  They  had  arrived  in  Bristol  only  a  short 
while  antecedent  to  its  state  of  semi-siege,  the 
Powells  having  long  preceded  them  thither.  And 
now  that  the  approaches  were  again  open,  most 
of  their  time  was  spent  keeping  them  so ;  the 
troop  with  the  "  big  sergeant,"  and  standard  show- 
ing a  crown  impaled  upon  a  sword,  once  more 
displaying  its  prowess  in  encounters  with  the 
Cavaliers.  After  Rupert  had  disappeared  from 
that  particular  scene,  Prince  Maurice,  with  his  corps 
d'arm^e,  began  to  manoeuvre  upon  it,  swinging 
round  southward  into  Somersetshire  to  unite  his 
force  with  that  of  Hertford.  To  hang  upon  his 
skirts,  and  harass  his  outposts,  was  the  work  of 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn ;  a  duty  which  often  carried 
him  and  his  Foresters  afar  from  the  city,  and  kept 
them  awAy  weeks  at  a  time. 

He  was  just  returning  to  it  when  Waller  passed 
through.  But,  entering  by  a  different  route  and 
gate  from  that  taken  by  the  latter  going  out,  he 
missed  him.  Like  enough  but  for  this  he  would 
have  been  commanded  along.  For  the  "  Con- 
queror "  had  carried  off  with  him  the  elite  of  the 
troops  quartered  in  Bristol,  almost  stripping  it  of 
a  garrison,  to  the  no  small  annoyance  of  Nathaniel 
Fiennes.  Glad  was  the  Governor  that  the  troop 
with  the  "big  sergeant"  had  escaped  such  requisi- 
tion— overjoyed  his  eyes  to  see  that  banner,  bearing 
the  emblem  of  a  crown  with  sword  stuck  through 
it  onqq  n^ore  waving  before  the  Castle  gate. 


CHAPTER   XXX 

A    MIXED    ASSEMBLY. 

If  Waller's  passage  through  Bristol  caused  general 
rejoicing,  there  was  joy  in  a  certain  private  circle 
at  the  re-entry  of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn  with  his 
troop.  Three  of  the  inmates  of  Montserrat  House 
hailed  his  return  with  a  flutter  of  delight ;  though 
not  all  on  his  account,  nor  any  of  them  its  mistress, 
the  Madame  herself  She  was  pleased,  however, 
to  see  the  gallant  knight  again,  as  also  his  young 
troop  captain,  so  much,  that  within  a  week  after 
their  return  she  sent  out  invitations  to  a  grand 
ball,  to  be  given,  if  not  professedly  for  them,  at 
least  so  understood. 

Many  of  the  invited  who  were  of  the  King's 
party  wondered,  not  at  her  giving  a  ball,  but 
giving  it  at  such  a  time,  and  in  honour  of  their 
enemies ;  one  of  these  Eustace  Trevor,  formerly 
in  the  service  of  the  Court  itself,  whom  they 
regarded  as  the  basest  of  renegades.  Madame 
Lalande,  hitherto  such  an  enthusiastic  Royalist, 
making  merry,  while  the  State  Martyrs  were  scarce 
cold  in  their  ^aves,  and  things  looking  black 
generally !  Waller's  unopposed  marchings  through 
the  surrounding  districts  had,  in  a  manner,  made 
good  'he  belief  in  his  being  invincible  ;  and  that 
he  would  be  equally  victorious  in  the  shires  of 
the  "  West,"  whither  he  was  now  gone.  If  so,  the 
Royal    cause,    hitherto    ascendant   in   that   quarter, 

»«  O 


104  NO  quarter! 

would  come  under  a  cloud,  if  not  be  extinguished 
altogether. 

Among  the  Cavalier  acquaintances  of  the  plan- 
ter's widow,  therefore,  were  heard  sneering  allusions 
to  the  "  worship  of  the  rising  sun,"  as  the  reason 
for  her  seeming  defection. 

It  was  not  the  correct  one,  though.  Nor,  if 
called  upon,  could  she  herself  have  stated  the 
precise  motif.  Alone  her  daughter  could  do  tfcat ; 
since  it  was  she  had  suggested  the  entertainment ; 
or  rather  commanded  it.  Though  but  turned 
eighteen,  this  young  lady,  child  of  a  precocious 
clime  and  race,  was  a  full-grown  woman,  intellec- 
tually as  physically ;  wont  to  have  her  own  way 
in  Montserrat  House,  as  in  her  native  isle  of  th^ 
Antilles  ;  and  was  in  reality  more  its  mistress 
than  her  mother.  Her  father's  will  had  been  read 
to  her,  and  she  quite  comprehended  its  provisions 
— all  in  her  favour.  Little  cared  she  for  slanderous 
whispers,  whether  by  the  tongues  of  Cavaliers  or 
Cropheads ;  though  it  was  no  worship  of  rising 
sun  inspired  her  in  this  particular  matter.  Instead, 
a  v/ish  to  shine  herself  \vi  the  eyes  of  society ; 
but  chiefly  those  of  one  for  whom  she  had  begun 
to  feel  adoration,  beyond  that  to  sun,  moon,  or 
stars.  She  could  dance  like  a  Bayadere,  and  knew 
it. 

There  need  be  no  difficulty  in  getting  together 
an  assemblage  of  guests,  numerous,  and  of  the 
right  ton,  Bristol  was  then  an  ancient  city,  second 
only  to  London  itself;  the  mushroom  Liverpools, 
Manchesters,  and  Birminghams  having  barely  a 
mark  upon  the  map.  Besides,  in  those  days,  the 
gentry  were  more  resident  in  towns ;  the  state  of 
the  roads — where  there  were'  any — and  the  scarcity 
of  wheeled  vehicles,  cumbersome  at  that,'  making 
travel     irksome     and     country     life     inconvenient 


A   MIXED  ASSEMBLY.  I95 

In  times  of  peace  the  city  on  Avon's  banks  had 
its  quota  of  England's  upper  crust ;  but  now  that 
war  raged  around  ft  was  crowded  with  such — 
fugitives  from  the  adjoining  villages  and  shires, 
even  from  beyond  the  Welsh  border,  who,  as 
Ambrose  Powell  and  his  family,  had  repaired 
thither  to  escape  exaction  and  insult — it  might  be 
outrage — from  the  marauding  Cavaliers, 

In  addition,  Bristol,  just  at  this  time,  contained 
a  goodly  sprinkling  of  the  Cavaliers  themselves, 
both  military  and  civilian  ;  not  voluntarily  there, 
nor  as  political  refugees,  but  prisoners.  Waller 
had  flung  some  threescore  into  it,  brought  all  the 
way  from  Monmouth  and  Hereford,  most  of  them 
men  of  high  rank,  and  most  as  many  on  parole — 
allowed  free  range  about  the  city  and  circulation 
in  its  best  society,  if  they  had  the  entree. 

So,  in  sending  out  her  invitations,  Madame 
Lalande  had  not  only  a  large,  but  varied  list  to 
select  from  ;  and  to  do  her  justice — or  it  may  have 
have  been  Clarisse — on  this  occasion  the  names 
were  pricked  with  impartiality ;  short  hair  and 
long  being  alike  honoured  by  circulars  of  compli- 
mentary request.  In  this  there  might  have  been 
an  eye  to  the  changing  times. 

Few  were  the  refusals.  No  ball  had  ever  come 
off  at  Montserrat  House  unaccompanied  by  a 
sumptuous  supper.  This  was  lure  enough  for  the 
elder  invMes,  especially  in  a  city  still  straitened 
if  not  besieged  ;  while  to  the  younger  the  dancing 
itself  offered  attraction  sufficient.  Since  the  depo- 
sition of  the  festive  Essex  there  had  been  but  little 
gaiety  in  Bristol;  under  the  stern  administration 
of  his  successor  the  dance  being  discouraged,  if 
not  altogether  tabooed ;  so  that  youthtul  heels 
were  itching  for  it,  of  both  sexes,  and  belonging  to 
families  on  both  sides  of  the  political  questioa 


ig6  NO  QUARTER  1 

As  a  result,  over  two  hundred  responded  to 
Madame  Lalande's  invitations  by  presenting  them- 
selves at  Montserrat  House.  Twice  the  number 
would  not  have  inconveniently  crowded  it;  since, 
in  addition  to  several  ample  reception  rooms,  there 
was  plenty  of  space  in  the  ornamental  grounds 
outside,  which  had  been  prepared  for  the  occasion 
by  a  setting  and  festoonery  of  lamps.  A  summer's 
night— for  it  was  July,  and  sultry  too — this  was 
an  advantageous  arrangement,  the  open  air  being 
more  enjoyable  than  that  inside. 

But  another  advantage  was  derived  from  it; 
one  that  may  be  thought  strange  enough.  It  gave 
Madame  Lalande's  guests  an  opportunity  of  skun- 
ning  one  another !  With  many  of  them  a  thing 
most  desirable  ;  for  men  met  there  who  had  been 
enemies  outside — were  so  still,  even  to  hating — 
the  fugitives  from  persecution  and  their  very  per- 
secutors ;  the  last,  now  their  prisoners,  humbled  and 
abashed.  Seemingly  a  fine  chance  for  the  former 
to  indulge  spites ;  but  good  manners  forbade  that. 

Still  something  more  interposed  to  prevent 
awkward  encounter  or  recognition.  On  the  ball 
notes  of  invitation  was  marked  "  Fancy  costume 
at  pleasure,"  which  left  the  invited  free  to  wear 
masks,  or  appear  without  them.  But  then,  even 
in  ordinary  street  promenade,  masks  had  not  been 
altogether  abandoned,  at  least  by  ladies,  many 
wearing  them  to  a  still  later  period. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  allowed  latitude, 
numbers  of  both  sexes  who  attended  the  Lalandes* 
ball  came  in  fancy  costumes,  and  masked.  But 
ladies  reliant  on  their  charms  were  careless  about 
the  fastenings  of  the  masks,  and,  somehow  or  other, 
the  detested  screens  soon  disappeared,  giving  the 
gentlemen  an  opportunity  for  the  scrutiny  and 
comparing  of  faces. 


A  MIXED  ASSEMBLY.  197 

Many  were  remarkable  for  their  beauty — some 
of  Bristol's  fairest  daughters.  And  as  a  great 
seaport,  with  much  foreign  element  in  it,  the  types 
were  varied.  Three,  however,  attracted  special 
attention — all  entitled  to  the  epithet  lovely.  They 
had  been  observed  from  the  beginning,  as  they 
were  in  the  withdrawing  room,  unmasked,  beside 
Madame  Lalande,  assisting  her  in  the  reception 
of  the  guests.  Which  identifies  them  as  Madame's 
daughter,  and  her  two  nieces,  Sabrina  and  Vaga 
Powell.     So  were  they. 

A  connoisseur  in  female  beauty  would  have 
found  it  difficult  to  decide  which  of  the  three 
deserved  the  palm.  Paris  himself  would  have 
been  puzzled  to  award  it.  Clarisse,  at  home,  and 
helping  her  mother  in  the  duties  of  introduction 
stood  prominently  forward,  and  so  first  met  the 
view  of  the  incoming  guests.  Few  who  looked 
upon  her  would  have  thought  of  looking  farther, 
nor  cared  to  take  their  eyes  off.  But  beyond  her 
face  with  features  of  French  type,  tinted  olive  and 
carmine,  was  another  of  English  outline,  all  roses 
set  in  a  framework  of  gold — Vaga's.  In  front  of 
this  that  of  the  Creole  brunette,  despite  its  piquant 
beauty,  was  but  the  shadow  of  a  partial  eclipse 
vainly  endeavouring  to  hide  the  light  of  the  sun. 

Beside  this,  still  another  face  in  retirement, 
which  many  admired  as  much  as  either — Sabrina*s. 
Notwithstanding  the  preference  shown  by  the 
frivolous  Trojan,  stately,  queenly  Juno  had  her 
charms  too. 

Among  the  gentlemen  received  by  Madame 
Lalande,  and  the  fair  triune  forming  her  staff, 
were  three  who  had  peculiar  relations  with  them— 
at  least  with  the  young  ladies — Sir  Richard 
Walwyn,  Eustace  and  Reginald  Trevor.  They 
came    not   in  together ;    the  last  by  some  minutes 


igB  NO  quarter! 

preceding  the  other  two.  But,  without  bett*^ 
knowledge  of  antecedents,  it  may  seem  strange 
his  being  there  at  all.  Nothing  much  of  this, 
however,  was  there  about  it ;  nor  did  Eustace 
show  any  surprise  at  seeing  his  cousin  in  the  room, 
which  he  did  soon  as  entering.  He  knew  Reginald 
was  in  -the  city,  and  the  reason — no  voluntary 
sojourner,  but  one  -of  the  prisoners  enjoying 
"parole."  As  a  captain  in  Sir  John  Wintour's 
troop  of  horse  he  had  been  with  Lord  Herbert's 
Monmouthshire  levies  in  their  farcical  siege  of 
Gloucester,  so  abruptly  raised  by  Waller ;  where  he 
escaped  death  by  being  made  captive,  and  sent 
for  safe  keeping  to  Bristol.  Though  Colonel  Luns- 
ford  was  not  there  also,  that  worthy  had  been 
served  in  the  same  way  at  an  earlier  period. 
Having  cried  "quarter"  at  Edgehill,  and  there 
surrendered  up  his  precious  person,  it  was  now 
being  taken  care  of  by  the  gaoler  of  Warwick 
Castle.  But  for  that  adverse  incident  he  might 
have  been  in  Bristol  too,  and  figuring,  as  other 
fine  Cavaliers,   at  the   Lalandes'  ball. 

Though  Reginald  Trevor  had  been  now  some 
weeks  in  the  city,  and  on  parole,  before  that  night 
he  and  his  cousin  had  not  met.  As  known, 
Eustace  was  for  a  time  absent  on  scout  with  Sir 
Richard,  But  even  after  his  return  ^  Reginald  had 
shunned  him,  and  neither  had  seen  aught  of  the 
other  since  that  angry  parting  at  Holly  mead. 
Now  that  chance  had  brought  them  together 
again,  it  was  to  meet  with  no  increased  cordiality ; 
instead  diminished,  what  had  occurred  since 
having  but  widened  the  gap  between  them.  Still 
the  hostility  was  all  on  Reginald's  side,  by  him 
felt  keenly  and  bitterly.  He  had  suffered  humili- 
ation;  a  soldier  of  fortune  he  was  now,  not  only 
thrown  out  of  employ  but  a  prisoner.     And,  if  not 


A  MIXED  ASSEMBLY,  199 

one  of  his  captors,  there  among  them  in  amicable 
association  was  his  cousin,  to  whom  he  had  sworn 
giving  "  No  Quarter ! "  should  they  ever  cross 
swords  in  the  field  of  fight. 

By  good  fortune  they  had  not  done  so  yet ;  and 
whether  he  desired  it,  the  other  did  not — had  no 
such  wish.  Instead,  would  have  been  willing  there 
and  then  to  shake  hands  with  him,  and  be  friends 
again. 

With  a  half-formed  resolve  to  make  offer  of 
reconciliation  Eustace  approached  his  cousin.  To 
get  a  reception  which  flung  him  back  upon  him- 
self, and  his  sensibilities. 

Though  few  their  words  exchanged,  they  were 
sharp  and  cutting,  as  might  have  been  their 
swords. 

"  So  you've  done  what  you  said  you  would  ?  * 

It  was  Reginald  who  spoke. 

"Done  what?" 

"Turned  traitor  to  your  King.  And  to  your 
father  too  ! " 

"  But  not  to  my  conscience,  nor  my  God.  They 
are  more  to  me  than  loyalty  to  any  King,  as  you 
call  it — even  more  than  affection  for  my  poor 
deluded  father,  however  much  Tfeel  for  him." 

"  Feel  for  him,  indeed !  Ha,  ha !  But  you  can 
go  on  as  youVe  begun.  Your  Cropheads  have  it 
all  their  own  way  here,  and  now ;  but  the  tide 
will  turn  sooner  than  you  may  think  for.  As  for 
yourself,  Eust,  you  may  thank  your  stars  you 
weren't  among  the  rabble  that  overpowered  me 
at  Highnam.  I  sent  half-a-dozen  to  their  long 
account,  and  like  as  not  you'd  have  been  one  of 
them.'* 

The  implied  superiority,  even  without  the  cruelty, 
was  an  impertinence.  But  Eustace  Trevor,  instead 
of   taking    it    in    that    sense,    and    making    angry 


200  NO   QUARTER  » 

retort,  treated  it  rather  as  a  joke,  with  a  light 
laugh  rejoining — 

"Possibly  had  I  been  there,  Rej,  you  wouldn't 
be  here." 

At  which  he  turned  away,  leaving  his  dark- 
browed  cousin  to  count  the  change  in  satire  that 
had   been  given  him  in  full. 


CHAPTER  XXXt 

A    LABYRINTH    OF    JEALOUSIES, 

No  more  on  that  night  came  the  cousins  together. 
If  by  chance  they  met,  it  was  to  pass  one  another 
as  strangers  unacquainted,  exchanging  neither 
speech  nor  look.  Further  attempt  at  reconcilia- 
tion Eustace  meant  not  to  make  now ;  he  rather 
regretted  having  gone  so  far  already. 

As  for  Reginald,  he  would  not  have  listened  to 
it  A  sentiment  inspired  hostility  to  his  cousin, 
far  stronger  than  any  vexation  at  his  having  for- 
saken the  King's  cause — altogether  different.  For 
it  was  jealousy ;  the  same  he  had  first  felt  during 
that  exciting  scene  at  Hollymead,  and  since 
brooded  over  till  it  had  become  an  all-pervading 
passion.  Eustace  had  replaced  him  in  the  affec- 
tions of  Vaga  Powell — or  he  at  least  suspected 
it  —  that  was  provocation  enough  for  antipathy, 
even  hatred.  And  almost  this  he  now  entertained 
for  him. 

Whatever  the  political  disagreement  among  the 
others  assembled  at  Montserrat  House,  there  was 
no  open  exhibition  of  it.  Royalists  and  Round- 
heads stood  in  groups,  or  moved  about,  chatting 
in  a  familiar,  many  of  them  friendly,  way. 
Officers  who  had  been  face  to  face  on  the  battle- 
field,  and  done  their  best  to  take  one  another's 
lives,  here  met  in  mutual  good  humour,  with 
laughing    allusion    to    the    changed     circumstances. 


202  NO  quarter! 

And  when  the  dancing  commenced,  gentlemen 
might  be  seen,  noted  adherents  of  the  Parlia- 
ment, some  wearing  its  uniform,  with  ladies  as 
their  partners  strongly  affected  to  the  King's 
cause ;  while,  in  the  couples  vis-d-vis  to  them,  the 
political  sentiments  would  be  reversed. 

But  the  majority  of  those  who  danced,  being  the 
gay  Jeunesse,  had  no  thought  of  politics,  nor  care 
for  them  one  way  or  the  other.  They  left,  that 
to  their  elders,  and  those  more  seriously  disposed  ; 
to  themselves  the  delights  of  the  dance  being  the 
controlling  influence  of  the  hour. 

Still  there  were  some,  even  of  the  youthful,  with 
whom  this  was  but  a  secondary  consideration. 
Sabrina  Powell  preferred  stroUlng  about  the 
grounds  with  Sir  Richard  Walwyn,  for  they  had 
much  to  say  to  one  another.  Of  late  their  oppor- 
tunities of  meeting  had  been  few  and  far  between, 
and  they  were  fiancee. 

Different  with  Vaga.  She  was  an  ardent  wor- 
shipper of  Terpsichore,  and  few  equalled  her  in 
the  accomplishment  of  dancing — scarce  any  ex- 
celling. She  was  up  in  every  set  ;  and,  could  she 
have  multiplied  herself  to  count  a  score,  would 
have  found  a  partner  for  every  unit.  A  very  host 
sought,  with  eagerness,  to  engage  her. 

There  was  one  who  observed  this  with  a  secret 
vexation  —  Clarisse.  Not  that  she  was  without 
her  share  of  aspiring  partners ;  she  had  them  in 
numbers  equalling  those  of  her  "country  cousin." 
But  even  that  did  not  satisfy  her ;  craving  uni- 
versal incense  she  wanted  all. 

Possibly,  she  would  have  cared  less  had  the 
rival  belle  been  any  other  than  Vaga  Powell.  But 
already  between  the  two  had  sprung  up  rivalry  of 
a  nature  different  from  any  competition  as  to  who 
should  shine  brightest   at  a  ball     In  a  word,  they 


A  LABYRlNtH  OF  JEALOUSIES.  ^63 

were  both  in  love  with  Eustace   Trevor,    and   each 
knew,  or  suspected  it,  of  the  other. 

On  this  night  Clarisse  had  the  advantage. 
Though  her  mother  ostensibly  gave  the  entertain- 
ment, she  herself  was  the  promoter  of  it  —  in  a 
manner  mistress  of  the  ceremonies.  As  such, 
commanding  the  music,  the  arrangement  of  the 
dances,  and,  to  a  certain  extent,  who  should  dance 
with  whom.  Not  much  cared  she,  however,  to 
exercise  this  control  over  other  than  Eustace 
Trevor,  which  she  did  so  effectually,  that  the  two 
danced  together  oftener  than  seemed  consistent 
with  ball-room  etiquette,  and  far  too  frequently 
to  escape  observation. 

Remarks  were  made  about  it,  and  by  the  par- 
tizans  of  both  sides.  "  That  explains  Madame 
Lalande's  defection  from  our  cause,"  said  the 
Cavaliers.  "  We  now  know  why  this  entertain- 
ment is  being  given,"  remarked  the  Parliamen- 
tarians ;  '*  clearly  for  Captain  Eustace  Trevor." 

And  Vaga  Powell !  What  thought  she  ?  How 
did  she  feel  about  it  ?  As  one  at  first  perplexed, 
then  sorely  pained.  She  who,  on  the  summit  of 
Ruardean  Hill,  had  talked  so  lightly  of  love — 
almost  boasted  of  never  having  experienced  the 
sentiment  —  was  now  within  its  toils  and  suffering 
its  torments. 

And  but  little  of  its  delights  had  she  yet  known 
—nothing  beyond  hopes  and  vague  anticipations. 
For  from  the  hour  when  Eustace  Trevor  plucked 
the  ostrich  feathers  from  his  hat,  replacing  them 
by  those  of  the  egret,  she  and  he  had  never 
another  opportunity  of  taking  up  the  thread  of 
the  dialogue  her  sister  had  so  inopportunely  in- 
terrupted. Several  interviews  between  them  since, 
but  all  under  surveillance  or  constraint.  This, 
however,  had  failed  to  change  or  weaken  the  senti- 


^64  Ko  quarter! 

ment  with  which  he  had  inspired  her ;  perhaps 
strengthened  it.  True  to  her  profession  of  con- 
stancy, when  she  said — "  If  I  ever  had  loved  a 
man,  I  think  I  should  love  him  still,"  she  did 
love  him  still ;  on  that  night  with  a  passion  burn- 
ing as  it  was  bitter. 

And  the  very  thing  that  was  filling  her  heart 
with  gloom  gave  joy  to  another.  Glad  was 
Reginald  Trevor  to  see  his  cousin  Eustace  paying 
attentions  in  the  quarter  where  he  seemed  paying 
them  —  to  Clarisse  Lalande.  During  all  the  inter- 
vening time  since  he  himself  had  suffered  rebuff, 
or  fancied  it,  despair  had  never  quite  mastered 
him.  As  most  young  Cavaliers,  he  believed  him- 
self a  lady  -  slaughterer  irresistible ;  and  to  the 
belief  of  his  having  made  a  conquest  of  Vaga 
Powell  he  would  still  have  confidently  clung  ;  but 
his  cousin,  of  late  having  better  opportunity,  had 
destroyed  his  chances.  And  now,  seeing  Eustace 
apparently  neglectful  of  her,  while  all  attention  to 
Clarisse  Lalande,  the  old  confidence  returned  to 
him :  he  had  been  labouring  under  a  misconcep- 
tion, and  Vaga  Powell  loved  him  after  all ! 

Indeed,  but  for  a  lingering  belief  in  this,  he 
would  not  have  been  there.  No  thought  of  ball 
or  supper  had  brought  him  to  Montserrat  House, 
but  the  hope  of  holding  speech  with  her.  For, 
notwithstanding  all  that  had  occurred,  he  enter- 
tained such  hope.  True,  he  had  offended  her  father ; 
but  that  was  in  the  exercise  of  his  duties,  and 
under  some  provocation.  Perhaps  it  was  forgotten, 
or  might  be  forgiven ;  perhaps  she  had  more  than 
forgiven  it  already     This  night  he  would  know. 

An  opportunity  of  speaking  with  her  soon 
offered.  There  was  little  difficulty  in  his  obtain- 
ing that.  Madame  Lalande  kept  no  guard  over 
her  nieces,  having  enough  to   do   in   looking  after 


A  LABYRINTH   OF  JEALOUSIES.  20$ 

her  chere  Clarisse.  And  their  father  was  not  with 
them.  If  within  the  house  he  was  not  a  partaker 
in  its  gaieties.  With  no  relish  for  such,  he  had 
declined  taking  part  in  them.  But  liberal  in  this, 
as  in  everything  else,  he  placed  no  constraint  on 
the  inclinations  of  his  girls.  They  were  free  to 
dance,  as  to  walk,  ride,  or  go  hawking. 

The  two  were  standing  together  as  Reginald 
Trevor  approached  them.  He  had  but  bowed  as 
he  was  received  on  entering,  and  felt  gratified  at 
having  his  salutation  returned.  Still  more  now 
when  permitted  to  enter  into  conversation  with 
them ;  finding,  if  not  affability,  anything  but  the 
distant  coldness  he  had  half  anticipated.  The 
truth  was  they  had  heard  many  things  about  him 
in  the  interval  ;  that,  though  fighting  for  a  cause 
they  detested,  he  had  fought  gallantly,  and  gained 
renown.  It  is  woman's  nature  to  look  leniently 
on  the  faults  of  a  man  who  comports  himself  with 
courage ;  and  these  girls  were  both  of  generous 
disposition.  Besides,  he  was  now  a  defeated  man  ; 
if  not  humiliated,  a  prisoner.  Enough  that  to 
claim  their  compassion,  and  he  had  it. 

Only  a  few  words  were  exchanged  between  him 
and  Sabrina — commonplace,  and  relating  to  things 
of  a  past  time.  There  was  one  she  more  desired 
conversing  with  ;  and,  turning  away,  left  Reginald 
Trevor  alone  with  her  sister.  Long  ere  then  she 
had  learnt  where  Vaga's  predilection  lay,  and  could 
trust   this   young  lady  to  take  care  of  herself. 

"  I  •  suppose  you've  quite  forgotten  me,  Mistress 
Vaga  ?  "  he  said,  when  Sabrina  was  out  of  hear- 
ing. 

"You  give  me  credit  for  a  very  short  memory, 
Captain  Trevor,"  she  promptly  returned,  but  in  no 
unkindly  tone,  "Why  should  you  think  Fve  for- 
gotten you.^" 


2o6  NO  quarter! 

"Oh!  so  many  matters  and  events  since  I  last 
had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  you.  And  youVe  met 
so  many  other  people,  more  interesting  than 
myself,  I  could  hardly  hope  for  your  bearing  me 
in  mind." 

He  spoke  in  a  subdued,  humble  way,  unlike  his 
old  swagger ;  which  had  the  effect  of  still  farther 
inclining  her  to  kindness.  As  yet,  however,  it  was 
but  sympathy  for  his  misfortunes. 

"But,  Captain  Trevor,  all  that  would  not  justify 
me  in  forgetting  a  friend  ;  as  I  think  you  were, 
and  would  have  continued,  but  for  these  troubles 
that  have  turned  so  many  friends  to  foes." 

**  No  one  regrets  them  more  than  I ;  and  for 
the  best  of  reasons." 

He  had  a  reason  for  regretting  them  in  the  fact 
of  his  being  a  prisoner.  No  light  matter  just 
then ;  for,  though  not  kept  confined  in  a  prison, 
he  might  at  any  moment  be  cast  into  one,  only 
to  be  led  forth  from  it  to  execution.  The  King' 
had  not  yet  ceased  fulminating  his  threats  of  re- 
taliation ;  and,  should  these  be  carried  out,  he,  in 
all  likelihood,  would  be  among  the  foremost  of  its 
victims. 

He  was  not  speaking  the  truth,  however,  in 
saying  he  regretted  the  troubles.  As  a  soldier 
of  fortune  they  were  bread  to  him,  promising 
fame  with  promotion.  He  might  look  to  regain- 
ing his  liberty  by  exchange,  or  otherwise,  and 
once  more  get  upon  the  ladder  of  ascent. 

Nor  had  the  reasons  he  spoke  of  aught  to  do 
with  his  being  a  prisoner ;  though  she  seemed,  or 
affected,  so  to  understand  them. 

"Indeed,  yes,"  she  rejoined,  "you  have  been 
very  unfortunate.  Captain  Trevor.  Tm  sorry  you 
should  have  been  taken  ;  still  more,  fighting  on  the 
side  you  were." 


A  LABVRINTH  OF  JEALOUSIES.  46^ 

"  Oh,  thank  you ! "  he  returned,  encouraged  by 
her  kind  words,  and  without  heeding  the  last 
clause.  "But  'tis  not  for  that  I  care.  What 
makes  me  regret  the  war  is  the  loss  of  friendships. 
And/'  he  added,  speaking  in  a  lower  tone,  but 
more  impressively,  **the  fear  of  having  lost  yours." 

"But  you  have  not,  sir — so  much  as  it  is  worth. 

My  father  was   angry   in   those   days ;    so  were  we 

]  all.     But,  then,   you  were  not  to  blame — we  could 

i'  not  think  that,  did  not — knowing  you  acted  under 

orders." 

"  Ah !  never  had  I  an  order  to  execute  so  much 
against  my  wish,  never  one  with  such  disagreeable 

consequences,   separating    me    so    long    from " 

He  hesitated  to  say  whom  or  what.  But,  mis- 
taking her  look  of  simple  inquiry  for  one  of  a 
more  interested  nature,  he  completed  the  speech 
with  one  other  word — "yourself." 

She  started,   looking    a    little    confused,   but   re- 
mained   silent ;    which    he,    again    misinterpreting, . 
took  as  a  permission  to  go  on,  which  he  did,  with 
increased  fervour, 

"  Yes,  Mistress  Vaga !  that  was  my  chief  regret, 
never  out  of  my  mind  for  a  moment  since.  Many 
the  night  on  watch  and  guard  have  I  thought  of 
you.  Sleepless  they  would  have  been,  even  with- 
out duty  to  keep  me  awake." 

"  But  why  all  this,  sir  ?  Why  should  I  be  a 
cause  to  keep  you  awake  ? " 

She  spoke  in  a  tone  that  suddenly  checked  and 
chilled  him.  For  the  question  recalled  a  fact  he 
seemed  to  overlook,  or  had  forgotten — that  Vaga 
Powell  had  never  acknowledged  him  in  the  light 
of  a  lover ;  never  before  given  him  permission  to 
address  words  to  her  such  as  he  was  now  speak- 
ing. 

"  Ah ! "  he  answered,  with  a  disappointed  air,  **  if 


2o8  NO  quarter! 

you  do  not  know  why,  'tis  not  much  use  my  tell- 
ing you.'*  Then  adding,  with  a  sigh,  "  I  had  hopes 
you  would  have  understood  me." 

She  did  understand  him  perfectly ;  knew  his 
aspirations  and  their  hopelessness.  And  never 
was  she  less  inclined  to  givQ  heed  to  them  than 
at  that  moment.  For  close  by  she  saw  her  cousin 
Clarisse  by  the  side  of  his  cousin  Eustace,  the  two 
standing  up  as  partners  for  a  dance  about  to 
begin. 

If  Reginald  Trevor  suffered  the  pangs  of  an  un- 
requited love,  Vaga  Powell  was  in  a  very  torment 
of  jealousy.  For  the  air  and  attitude  of  the  other 
two  seemed  to  speak  of  something  more  than  the 
mere  indifference  of  dancing  partners.  The  Creole 
had  hold  of  his  arm,  was  hanging  upon  it,  her 
eyes  upturned  to  his  face  with  a  languishing,  lov- 
ing smile,  which  he  appeared  to  reciprocate. 

Rather  a  pleasing  sight  to  Reginald,  for  reasons 
that  just  then  presented  themselves.  But  a  painful 
one  to  her  with  whom  he  was  conversing — torture 
itself. 

All  at  once  a  thought  occurred  to  her,  which 
promised  something,  if  not  relief.  Anyhow,  it 
gave  this  and  more  to  Reginald  Trevor.  For  of 
the  many  seeking  her  hand  for  the  dance.,  he  was 
the  one  preferred,  and  with  an  alacrity  that  some- 
what surprised,  while  delighting  him. 

His  delight  would  have  been  less  could  he  have 
fathomed  her  motive  and  design.  Little  dreamt 
he  of  either,  or  that  he  was  about  to  be  utilized 
solely  as  a  pawn  for  playing  the  game  oi  piques. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

A  CONTRADANZA. 

It  was  a  contredanse ;  the  "  contradanza "  of  Spain 
transmitted  through  France  to  England,  where  it 
had  become  naturalized,  and  by  a  misapprehension 
of  terms  called  **  country  dance."  It  was  the  piece 
de  resistance  of  the  time,  before  the  introduction  of 
the  cotillon,  quadrille,  and  other  "square"  dances. 

The  assemblage  being  a  large  one,  several  sets 
danced  at  the  same  time,  inside  the  house  and 
without,  the  music  in  a  central  position  availing 
for  all. 

The  set  in  which  figured  Mademoiselle  Lalande 
was,  of  course,  the  select  one,  comprising  the  Mte 
of  the  family's  friends  and  resident  gentry,  with 
the  strangers  of  greatest  distinction,  military  and 
civilian.  It  was  formed  on  the  lawn  outside,  in 
front  of  the  withdrawing-room  windows,  where  a 
spread  of  smooth,  firm  turf  afforded  ample  space, 
and  a  floor  for  dancing  good  as  that  of  any  ball- 
room. Better,  slips  and  tumbles  considered. 
Around  and  overhead  were  strings  of  lamps  sus- 
pended from  the  trees,  while  a  profusion  of  flowers, 
now  in  full  blow,  filled  the  air  with  incense.  A 
warm  summer's  night,  with  such  surroundings,  the 
Creole  girl  might  have  fancied  herself  back  in  her 
native  isle  of  the  Antilles,  under  the  palms  and 
amidst  the  flashing  cocuyos. 

As    if    she    had    such   a   fancy,   her   grand   dark 


210  NO  quarter! 

eyes  were  aglow  with  delight — triumph  in  them 
too.  But  neither  had  to  do  with  any  thought  of 
scenes  or  things  transatlantic.  The  cause  was  by 
her  side,  and  she  took  no  pains  to  conceal  it.  Im- 
passioned child  of  the  tropics,  never  in  her  life 
gainsaid,  she  had  needed  not  the  resorts  of 
subterfuge ;  instead  openly  demanding  and  having 
whatever  she  desired.  And  now  desiring  Eustace 
Trevor,  she  believed  she  had  secured  him. 

Certainly  it  seemed  so ;  and  as  if  with  her  wiles 
and  witchery — bold  ways  the  sober  Bristolians 
called  them — she  had  succeeded  in  weaving  a  spell 
around  him.  Once  already  had  he  been  her 
partner,  and  now  for  the  second  time  was  he 
standing  up  with  her,  to  all  appearance  absorbed 
in  what  she  said,  making  impressive  responses, 
partaking  of  her  joy  and  triumph. 

This  was  what  Vaga  Powell  supposed ;  and  no 
wonder  at  her  jealousy  stung  to  the  highest, 
bitterest  pitch.  But  the  green-eyed  monster  sees 
with  eyes  that  distort  and  exaggerate,  as  hers 
were  doing  then.  She  was  putting  a  wrong  inter- 
pretation on  what  she  saw,  reading  it  reversely  to 
the  truth.  A  disinterested  spectator,  with  skill  in 
physiognomy,  could  have  told  that  Eustace  Trevor, 
so  far  from  being  taken  up  with  Clarisse  Lalande, 
would  have  been  glad  to  get  disembarrassed  of 
her.  He  too  was  at  that  moment  suffering  pangs 
of  jealousy  equal  to  those  he  inflicted.  This  from 
seeing  his  cousin  the  partner  of  Vaga  Powell, 
thinking  of  Reginald's  acquaintance  with  her  older 
than  his  own,  and  recalling  something  he  had 
heard  of  between  them  antecedent  to  the  time  of 
his  introduction  at  Hollymead.  Only  a  rumour  it 
was — a  vague  whisper — but  it  spoke  of  relations 
of  a  nature  warmer  and  more  confidential  than 
those  of  mer^  friendship. 


A  C0NTRADAN2A.  41! 

Could  it  have  been  so,  and  was  there  a  renewal 
of  them  ?  These  were  the  questions  self-asked  by 
the  ci'devant  gentleman  usher.  Seemingly  an- 
swered in  the  affirmative  by  what  he  now  saw. 
For,  young  as  was  the  younger  daughter  of  Am- 
brose Powell,  she  was  no  child  of  simplicity,  but 
could  play  at  coquetting  with  the  oldest  and 
cleverest  coquette  there.  If  he  in  her  eyes  seemed 
too  assiduously  attentive  to  Clarisse,  she  in  his 
appeared  the  same  with  Reginald. 

An  odd  position  of  affairs  it  was  with  this 
quartette  of  cousins  as  regarded  their  feelings  to- 
wards one  another— a  play  of  cross  purposes, 
triangularly  twisted  and  sinister,  but  in  a  manner 
symmetrical.  The  two  men  in  love  with  the  same 
woman,  the  two  women  loving  the  same  man,  yet 
two  of  the  four  not  loved  at  all — as  it  were,  left 
out  in  the  cold.  And  these  last  the  ones  that 
were  joyous  and  exultant,  the  others  despondent 
and  sad. 

Could  hearts  >  see  into  hearts,  and  read  the 
writing  therein,  all  this  would  have  been  reversed  ; 
the  glad  ones  would  have  ceased  to  be  gay,  and 
on  the  instant,  while  the  sad  ones  would  as  sud- 
denly have  found  joy.  But  the  people  so  perversely 
astray  could  not  comprehend  one  another.  Not 
likely  with  everything  done  to  hinder  it — ^glances, 
attitudes,  gestures,  all  meant  to  deceive. 

And  so  the  mutual  misconception  remained 
throughout  the  night.  Dance  succeeded  dance,  but 
in  none  was  Eustace  Trevor  the  partner  of  Vaga 
Powell. 

And  yet  the  fault  was  not  with  him,  though  it 
may  appear  so.  His  dancing  the  first  set  with 
Clarisse  was  quite  accidental  so  far  as  he  was  con- 
cerned. He  had  not  sought  to  engage  her ;  on 
the   contrary  she   seeking   him — in   a   manner  com- 


^t2  NO  quarter! 

manding  him.  Officially  privileged,  she  might  do 
so  without  incurring  censure  or  challenging  remark. 
But  when  the  thing  was  repeated,  and  for  the 
second  time  in  succession  they  were  seen  standing 
up  together,  a  whisper  went  round  that  it  meant 
something  more  than  mere  inadvertency — in  short, 
a  decided  preference. 

And  so  was  it  with  her  at  least,  he  neither 
feeling  it  nor  conscious  of  her  design.  For,  in 
truth,  he  had  been  on  the  way  to  seek  Vaga 
Powell  and  ask  her  for  the  second  set,  when  once 
more  encountering  Clarisse,  as  by  chance,  she  ex- 
claimed, in  a  half-patronising,  half-coaxing  way, — 

"  How  well  you  dance.  Captain  Trevor !  So 
different  from  all  the  others." 

Rather  surprised  by  such  a  plain-spoken  compli- 
ment, flattery  in  fact — he  was  about  to  give  it  this 
name — but,  without  waiting  his  rejoinder,  she  rattled 
on, — 

"And  I  hope  youVe  enough  satisfied  with  my 
dancing  to  have  me  for  your  partner  again — ^you 
will,  won't  you  ?" 

Solicitation  seeming  bold,  almost  to  shameless- 
ness.  It  would  have  been  this  in  an  English  girl ; 
but  one  knowing  Clarisse  Lalande,  her  impulsive 
nature,  and  the  way  she  had  been  brought  up, 
could  better  pardon  it, 

"  It  will  give   me   the  greatest  pleasure,"  was  his 
response.       He    would    not    have    been    man — less 
gentleman — to    answer    otherwise.      Both    gallantry  ^ 
and  good  manners  enforced  an  affirmative. 

"  Consider  yourself  engaged  then  !  " 

**By  all  means,  Mademoiselle.     For  which  set?'* 

**  Oh  !  now — the  next.     I  wish  it." 

Another  surprise  to  him,  anything  but  agreeable. 
It  interfered  with  his  intentions,  spoiling  his  own 
programme.     But  there  was  no  help  for  it,  no  gain- 


A  CONTRADANZA.  213 

saying  a  wish  so  plainly  expressed,  and  he  stam- 
mered   out  assent  with  the  best  grace  possible. 

As  the  music  for  the  second  set  was  just  com- 
mencing, she  thrust  her  jewelled  fingers  inside 
his  arm,  and  conducted  him,  rather  than  he  her, 
back  to  the  place  of  dancing. 

It  was  then  Vaga  Powell  experienced  that  jealous 
pang  which  determined  her  to  the  line  of  action 
she  was  pursuing.  But  it  was  a  jealousy  neither 
new,  nor  born  of  that  hour ;  only  in  that  hour  reach- 
ing the  climax  and  acme  of  its  keenness.  Eustace 
Trevor  twice  dancing  with  her  cousin,  and  never 
coming  near  herself!  Never  once,  even  to  say  a 
word,  since  the  one  or  two  of  ceremony  exchanged 
between  them  at  his  first  entering  and  reception. 
No  wonder  at  her  being  a  prey  to  jealousy !' 

But  she  was  not  alone  in  the  experience  of  its 
misery.  He,  in  his  turn,  was  tasting  of  it  too. 
When  at  length  released  from  his  engagement  with 
the  Creole,  inopportune  as  irksome,  and  he  again 
sought  Vaga  Powell,  it  was  to  find  her  in  a  mood 
aught  but  amiable.  And  with  Reginald  still  by 
her  side — she  had  no  difficulty  in  retaining  /izm — 
the  two  seemingly  engrossed  with  one  another. 
Well  and  skilfully — too  well  and  too  skilfully — was 
the  damsel  of  Dean  Forest  playing  her  part. 

As  Eustace  approached  them,  Reginald  drew 
back  a  pace,  and  stood  in  an  attitude  of  dignified 
stiffness,  with  a  perceptible  triumph  in  his  eyes, 
and  something  like  a  sneer  on  his  lips.  No  word 
of  salutation  passed  between  the  cousins  now — not 
even  nod  of  recognition — and  one  seeing  who  knew 
them  not  would  have  supposed  them  utter  strangers. 
Eustace  but  bowed  to  the  lady ;  and,  as  the  music 
was  just  sounding  the  prelude  to  another  dance, 
he  asked,  in  rather  a  timid,  doubting  way, — 

"  May  I  have  you  for  a  partner,  Mistress  Vaga  ? " 


214  NO  quarter! 

At  another  time,  even  earlier  that  night,  he 
might  have  addressed  her  differently  and  more 
familiarly — ay,  would  have  been  safe  in  saying — 
**  Let  us  dance,  dear  Vaga  !  "  But  he  had  neither 
thought  nor  confidence  to  "dear"  her  now,  nor 
she  the  desire  to  be  deared.  Curt,  and  almost 
disdainful  was  her  answer, — 

"  Sorry  ;  but  I'm  engaged." 

He  did  not  need  being  told  to  whom,  the 
triumphant  bearing  of  his  cousin  declared  that ; 
and,  with  a  bow  of  feigned  resignation,  and  much 
bitterness  of  heart,  he  withdrew,  leaving  them  to 
themselves. 

And  so  the  jealous  fire,  just  kindled  in  his 
breast,  burned  on  in  hers,  not  that  night  to  be 
extinguished. 


CHAPTER  XXXIIT. 

A  PAS-SEUL. 

Wide  the  breach  now  between  Vaga  Powell  and 
Eustace  Trevor,  growing  wider  as  the  moments 
passed.  Though  the  evolutions  of  the  dance  often 
brought  them  near  one  another,  no  more  speech 
exchanged  they  that  night ;  nor  glances  either.  If 
by  chance  their  eyes  met  there  was  a  retirement  on 
both  sides,  quick  and  subtle,  as  though  each  felt 
caught  in  some  crimmal  act.  For  all  they  were 
mutually  observant,  and  when  only  one  looked,  the 
other  unconscious,  it  was  with  gaze  continued, 
regard  telling  the  tale  of  love  and  jealousy  plainer 
and  truer  than  could  words. 

What  had  caused  the  rupture  was  still  there  to 
hinder  its  healing — on  one  side  Clarisse,  practising 
all  her  arts  and  seductions  ;  on  the  other  Reginald 
doing  the  same.  And  both,  so  far  as  they  them- 
selves believed,  and  general  appearance  might  be 
trusted,  with  sinister  success. 

Between  these  two,  aiming  at  like  ends,  there  was 

much   similitude    otherwise.      Equally   vain,   Creole 

girl  as    Cavalier,  they  had    grand  reliance    in    their 

respective    powers,    each    over     the    opposite    sex. 

Though  no    Adonis,  Reginald    Trevor  was  a    fairly 

handsome  man — of  the    martial   type,  whom  many 

a   woman  would    have    fancied,  as    many  had.     So 

favoured,  and   conscious    of  it,   not   so   strange   his 

restored    confidence    that     he    still     possessed    the 

affections  of  Vaga  Powell.    He  had  entertained  this 

•II 


2X6  NO  QUARTER  ! 

belief,  and  then  partially  lost  it,  but  now  it  was 
back  with  him  again,  her  behaviour  seeming  to 
justify  it 

There  was  less  in  the  past  to  cloud  the  hopes  of 
Clarisse — less  known  to  her.  For  the  antecedent 
circumstances  between  Eustace  Trevor  and  her 
cousin  had  as  yet  been  revealed  to  her  only  in  a 
scant  desultory  way.  She  had  heard  of  his  having 
spent  some  days  at  Hollymead  ;  had  been  told 
also  of  his  sudden  conversion  there,  and  half 
suspected  the  cause.  But  she  had  herself  observed 
nothing  to  confirm  her  suspicions.  He  had  been 
several  times  on  visit  to  Montserrat  House,  but 
always  in  the  company  of  his  colonel,  Sir  Richard  ; 
and  while  there  his  interviews  with  Vaga  were 
under  her  own  eyes  and  others.  They  might  have 
met  outside  without  her  having  knowledge  of  it. 
But  It  was  in  truth  the  brilliant  beauty  of  her 
country  cousin,  which  more  than  aught  else  troubled 
and  had  given  rise  to  her  jealousy.  Still  what  was 
it  to  her  own,  with  her  powers  of  fascination  ? 
Nothing  that  night,  thought  she ;  and  thus  confi- 
dent in  herself,  she  noticed  not  the  strange  dis- 
traught air  of  her  partner,  as  now  and  then  his 
eyes  turned  furtively  to  the  partner  of  his  cousin. 

Thus  unobservant,  the  two  who  cared  not  for 
one  another  danced  joyously  on  little  dreaming 
of  that  mad  jealousy  between  the  other  two,  but 
for  which  there  would  have  been  a  quick  change  in 
the  arrangement  of  the  couples. 


"What  next?     What  now?'* 

The  questions  passing  from  lip  to  lip,  late  on  in 
the  night,  and  after  another  contredanse  had  come 
to  a  close.  A  whisper  had  got  wing  of  something 
to  succeed,  altogether  different — a  dance  of  a  special 


A  PAS-SEUL.  217 

character,  introduced  to  the  BristoHans  by  the 
daughter  of  Madame  Lalande. 

In  those  days,  the  era  of  the  morris  and  other 
picturesque  dances,  excellence  in  the  Coryphean 
art  was  esteemed  a  qualification;  not  lightly  held 
as  now,  and  deemed  rather  degrading.  The  French 
Queen  had  encouraged  this,  and  noble  dames  oft 
vied  with  each  other  in  saltatory  displays. 

To  show  her  superiority,  Clarisse  Lalande  had 
prepared  a  surprise  for  the  assembly  at  Montserrat 
House — a  dance  of  the  Antilles,  in  which  she 
could  have  no  competitor,  nor  need  fear  any  if  she 
had.  It  was  also  of  Spanish  origin,  much  practised 
in  the  West  India  islands ;  where,  then  as  now, 
dancing  was  a  thing  of  every  night,  and  often  of 
the  day — even  the  negroes  giving  half  their  off- 
labour  hours  to  it,  jigging  with  a  grace  unknown 
to  the  peasantry  of  European  lands.  Their  white 
"  massas  "  were,  many  of  them,  perfect  maitres-de- 
danse,  and  their  young  mistresses  very  Odalisques. 
Monsieur  Lalande  had  prided  himself  on  this 
accomplishment,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  his 
daughter  did  the  same — hence  the  resolve  to  make 
display  of  her  proficiency. 

The  music  had  been  prearranged  ;  the  time  too 
— after  supper,  when  the  excitement  which  comes 
of  the  wine  cup  would  make  it  more  attractive  in 
the  eyes  of  the  spectators ;  though  Clarisse  Lalande 
was  thinking  of  only  one  of  them,  and  how  it 
would  affect  him. 

It  was  new  to  most  of  the  people  present,  but 
not  all.  The  familiars  of  Montserrat  House  had 
witnessed  it  before,  and  were  aware  of  its  peculiari- 
ties. A  pas-seul  it  was,  danced  only  by  a  lady, 
though  a  gentleman  had  something  to  do  with  it 
at  the  termination.  The  lady  commences  in  slow 
movement  and  gentle  step,  accompanied  by  panto- 


il8  NO  QUARTER  1 

mimic  gestures  ;  as  she  passes  on  every  now  and 
then  stooping  down,  or  reaching  upward,  to  take 
hold  of  some  object  that  has  caught  her  eye.  It 
is,  in  fact,  a  representation,  in  dumb  show,  of  an 
Indian  girl  straying  along  a  forest  path  in  the  act 
of  gathering  flowers.  Nor  does  she  pause  while 
plucking  them,  only  poising  an  instant  on  one  limb, 
and,  with  a  whirl,  or  pirouette,  continuing  onward. 
The  step  admits  of  many  changes  and  every  variety 
of  attitude ;  according  to  whether  the  blossoms 
tempting  her  be  on  the  right  or  left,  down  upon 
the  earth,  or  overhead  among  the  branches  of  the 
trees.  All  which  affords  fine  opportunity  for  dis 
playing  the  graces  of  figure  and  movement,  witt 
skill  or  cleverness  in  the  pantomimic  representation. 
After  this  has  gone  on  for  a  time,  the  flower 
gatherer  is  seen  to  start,  her  features  changing^ 
expression.  Some  sound  in  the  forest  has  caught 
her  ear.  She  pauses,  bends  low,  and  listens.  At 
first  interrogatively  ;  then  with  apprehension,  end- 
ing in  alarm.  Flight  follows,  the  lines  of  it  hither 
and  thither  in  irregular  zigzags,  as  if  the  affrighted 
girl,  in  her  confusion,  knows  not  which  way  to  go. 
The  movement  is  now  violent,  the  gesticulation 
excited.  At  length  the  retreat  takes  a  steadier 
course,  around  the  outer  edge  of  the  arena,  not  by 
forward  steps,  but  the  whirling  gyrations  of  a  waltz. 
This  being  kept  up  for  a  turn  or  two,  fatigue  is 
counterfeited,  with  continued  fear  of  the  pursuing 
enemy,  and  by  looks  and  gestures  appeal  is  made  to 
the  spectators  for  help.  These  know,  however,  that 
only  one  is  privileged  to  offer  it — he  whom  she 
will  designate  by  tossing  to  him  a  riband,  kerchief, 
glove,  or  some  such  token.  His  rohy  then,  is 
simply  to  step  forth  and  place  himself  in  the  atti- 
tude of  a  rescuer,  when  the  fugitive  flings  herself 
into  his  arms,  looking  all  gratitude. 


A  PAS-SEUL.  219 

When  Clarisse  Lalande  took  the  floor,  or,  to 
speak  more  correctly,  the  turf, — for  it  was  outside 
in  the  place  already  described, — there  were  few 
knowing  the  character  of  the  novel  dance  but 
could  give  a  guess  as  to  who  would  be  summoned 
to  the  rescue.  Too  soon  to  be  thinking  of  that 
yet,  however ;  all  thoughts  being  engrossed  by  the 
Creole  herself,  all  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  as  she 
appeared  in  the  open  space,  around  which  the 
spectators  were  now  standing  two  deep.  The 
whole  conjpany  was  there  ;  the  other  dancing  places, 
inside  and  out,  for  the  time  deserted. 

It  was  seen  that  she  had  changed  her  dress — this 
done  during  the  interlude  of  supper — and  was  now 
in  the  costume  of  a  Carib  queen,  short  skirt  and 
low  boddice.  Robes  rather  gauzy  and  transparent; 
at  which  some  present  were  not  slow  to  speak 
disapprovingly.  But  these  were  in  the  minority ; 
the  wonderful  beauty  of  the  girl,  with  a  knowledge 
that  her  ways  and  bringing  up  had  not  been  as 
theirs,  made  the  majority  large  and  something  more 
than  lenient.  And  when  she  became  engaged  in 
the  innocent  occupation  of  flower-gathering,  like  a 
brilliant  butterfly  flitting  from  one  to  another, 
satire  was  silent;  even  the  most  Puritanical  seeming 
to  forget  all  about  the  thinness  and  scantiness  of 
her  attire. 

Then  came  the  start,  the  listening  attitude,  the 
affectation  of  alarm,  followed  by  the  confused 
flight ;  in  grand  voltes  and  side-bounds,  as  an 
jintelope  surprised  by  a  panther.  At  length  the 
circling  retreat,  round  and  round  the  ring  of 
spectators,  at  first  in  a  rapid  whirl,  till  feigning 
exhaustion,  her  movements  gradually  became 
slower  and  feebler,  as  though  she  would  drop  to 
the  earth. 

Every  eye  was  now  on  the  alert ;  they  knew  the 


220  NO  QUARTER  I 

finale  was  near,  and  the  recipient  of  the  favour 
would  soon  be  declared.  It  often  means  nothing 
beyond  mere  compliment ;  and  as  oft  for  delicate 
reasons,  the  favoured  one  is  not  the  one  wished 
for.  But  no  such  influences  were  likely  to  affect 
the  present  case,  and  the  denouement  was  looked  for 
with  a  rare  intensity  of  interest. 

The  girl  had  drawn  off  one  of  her  jewelled 
gloves — in  those  days  they  were  so  adorned — and 
held  it  with  arm  astretch,  ready  to  be  flung.  Still, 
she  went  undulating  on,  at  each  turn  of  her  face 
toward  tlie  spectators  seeming  to  search  among 
them.  Many  a  one  had  wishes,  and  more  than 
one  a  hope  of  seeing  that  glove  tossed  to  him. 
For  Clarisse  Lalande  had  a  large  following  of 
lovers.  All  save  one  to  suffer  disappointment,  with 
more  or  less  chagrin.  And  yet  giving  no  gratifica- 
tion to  him  at  whose  feet  it  eventually  fell,  as  the 
wise  ones  knew  it  would — Eustace  Trevor. 

With  less  show  of  alacrity  than  resignation  he 
took  it  up  ;  this  an  exigency  of  the  performance. 
After  which,  with  open  arms,  he  received  the 
exhausted  danseuse,  her  breasts  heaving  and  panting 
as  though  they  would  burst  the  silken  corset  that 
so   slightly  confined   them. 

Cold-blooded  man  he,  many  might  have  thought 
him.  But  had  other  breasts  been  thus  near  his 
own,  another  heart  beating  so  close  to  his,  he 
would  have  shown  warmth  enough. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

GUARDIAN  ANGELS. 

■The  swift  Rhone  cleaves  his  way  between 

Heights  which  appear  as  lovers  who  have  parted 
In  hate,  whose  mining  depths  so  intervene 

That  they  can  meet  no  more,  though  broken-liearted  j 
Though  in  their  souls,  which  thus  each  other  thwarted, 

Love  was  the  very  root  of  the  fond  rage 
Which  blighted  their  life's  bloom,  and  then  departed— 

Itself  expired,  leaving  them  an  age 
Of  years,  all  winters — war  within  themselves  to  wage." 

Was  It  to  be  thus  with  Eustace  Trevor  and  Vaga 
Powell  ? 

Verily,  it  seemed  so  on  that  night;  and  never 
more  than  at  that  moment,  when  he,  with  her 
cousin — Indian  queen  in  counterfeit — strolled  off 
arm  in  arm  along  the  lamplit  walks.  A  sight  to 
tear  her  heart.  And  it  tore  it ;  might  have 
altogether  rent  and  ruined  it  had  the  mutual  mis- 
understanding continued.  Ay,  "blighted  the  life's 
bloom"  of  both,  "leaving  them  an  age  of  years, 
all  winters." 

But  kind  fate  decreed  it  otherwise ;  before  another 
night  shadowed  Avon's  banks,  whatever  of  con- 
fidence had  hitherto  been  between  them  was  re- 
established, and  true  love  triumphed  over  jealousy. 

Partly  by  accident  was  the  happy  result  brought 
about ;  though  it  might  have  come  without  that 
For  on  the  side  of  each  was   a  watchful   monitor, 


52i  Mo  quarter! 

who  understood    the   situation  better  than  either  of 
themselves. 

The  guardian  angels  were  Sir  Richard  Walwyn 
and  Sabrina  Powell ;  his  friendship,  and  her  sisterly 
solicitude  standing  the  younger  lovers  in  stead. 

"Why  has  your  sister  not  danced  with  Captain 
Trevor — I  mean  my  Captain  Trevor  ?  '*  queried  the 
soldier-knight  of  his  betrothed.  "  I  haven't  seen 
him  near  her  all  the  night.  Has  there  come  a 
coolness  between  them,  think  you  ? " 
Something  of  the  sort,  I  fear." 

**  But  from  what  cause  ?     Have  you  any  idea  ? " 

"Oh!  the  cause  is  clear  enough!  though  she 
hasn't  made  me  her  confidante'^ 

"  The  Creole  cousin  ?  " 

"  Just  so." 

"  But  Vaga  has  nothing  to  fear  from  her ;  nor 
need  being  jealous,  in  the  least." 

"  Why  do  you  say  so,  Richard  ?  ^ 

"  Because  Trevor  don't  care  a  straw  for  Made- 
moiselle Lalande." 

"Then  what  means  the  way  he's  been  carrying 
on  with  her  ?  " 

"  Rather,  say,  the  way  she's  carrying  on  with 
him.  It  don't  •  signify,  however.  Let  her  practise 
all  her  arts ;  she'll  have  her  pains  for  nothing.  I 
know  he's  madly  in  love  with  your  sister ;  has 
been  ever  since  first  setting  eyes  upon  her  at 
HoUymead.     That  much  he  has  confided  to  me." 

"  He  may  have  changed.      Clarisse  is  very  beau-  j 
tiful — very  attractive  ?  " 

"True,  she  is.  But  not  the  style  to  attract  him. 
Nor  is  he  of  the  fickle  sort.  At  Whitehall  he  bore 
the  reputation  of  having  a  heart  of  adamant ;  with 
no  end  of  sighing  damsels  doing  their  endeavour 
to  soften  it.  Indeed,  scandal  spoke  of  its  very 
obduracy   being   the   cause   of   his   dismissal    from 


GUARDIAN   ANGELS,  223 

Court ;  a  certain  Royal  lady  having  assailed  it  un- 
successfully, and  for  that  reason  turned  against  him. 
Such  a  man  once  in  love,  as  I  know  he  is  with 
your  sister,  is  not  likely  to  veer  about  so  suddenly." 

"  But,  you  remember  with  what  suddenness  he 
changed  sides,  politically  ?  " 

"  Ah !  that's  different,  and  to  his  credit.  It  was 
not  of  his  own  choosing  that  he  was  on  the  wrong 
one.  And^  soon  as  finding  it  so,  he  espoused  the 
right  one.  All  the  more  likely  his  standing  firm, 
and  proving  true  in  an  affair  of  the  heart.  But 
are  you  sure  the  fault  is  not  on  Vaga's  side  ? 
I've  observed  her  a  good  deal  in  the  company  of 
the  other  Trevor,  and  several  times  dancing  with 
him.     What  does  that  mean  ?  *' 

"I  cannot  tell.  He  may  be  forcing  his  company 
upon  her;  and  she,  offended  at  Eustace's  behaviour, 
accepts  it." 

"Likely  then  they  are  playing  at  spite — that  is, 
my  captain  and  your  sister.  It's  a  dangerous 
game,  and  we  must  do  something  to  stop  it." 

They  thus  exchanging  confidences  were  engaged 
lovers  of  long  standing,  who,  but  for  the  war 
coming  on,  would  now  have  been  man  and  wife. 
Hence  their  interest  in  the  two  who  were  in 
danger  of  going  astray  was  of  a  protecting 
character.  Sabrina,  especially  anxious  about  the 
upshot  on  the  score  of  her  sister's  happiness,  re- 
joined with  alacrity, — 

**  We  must     Are  you  sure  Eustace  loves  Vaga  ?  " 

"  Sure  as  that  I  love  you,  dearest.  I  had 
evidence  of  it,  not  many  hours  ago,  and  from  his 
own  lips.  On  the  way  hither — we  came  together 
you  may  know — he  spoke  of  a  heaviness  at  his 
heart,  and  that  he  had  never  started  to  go  to  a 
ball  with  less  anticipation  of  pleasure.  On  my 
s^sking  for  explanation^  he  said  it  was  on   account 


224  NO  QUARTER  I 

of  your  sister.  It  was  weeks  since  he  had  seen 
her ;  and  something  seemed  to  whisper  she  would 
not  be  the  same  to  him  as  she  had  been.  Trying 
to  laugh  away  his  fancies,  and  pressing  him  for  a 
more  tangible  reason,  he  merely  added  'Reginald.' 
I  know  he  has  always  had  a  suspicion,  if  not 
jealousy,  about  his  cousin's  relations  with  Vaga, 
before  he  himself  came  to  know  her.  When  he 
returned  the  other  day,  and  he  learnt  that  Reginald 
was  in  Bristol — had  been  for  some  time — he  took 
it  for  granted  he  would  also  be  often  here  in  this 
house.  That,  of  course,  considering  the  Cavalier 
inclinings  of  your  aunt  and  cousin.  No  doubt  the 
thought,  or  fancy,  of  Master  Rej  being  restored  to 
Vaga's  favour  is  what  affects  him  now." 

**  It's  but  a  fancy,  then.  Master  Rej  couldn't  be 
restored  to  favour  he  never  had.     As  for  Vag ** 

She  broke  off  abruptly  at  the  sound  of  voices 
and  footsteps.  Two  persons  in  conversation  were 
coming  along  the  gravelled  walk.  The  place  was 
a  pavilion,  trellised  all  round,  the  trellis  supporting 
a  thick  growth  of  climbers  that  formed  a  curtain 
to  it.  There  was  a  lamp  suspended  inside,  but  its 
light  had  gone  out,  either  through  neglect  or  be- 
cause the  day  would  soon  be  dawning.  The 
dialogue  given  above  took  place  within  the  pavi- 
lion ;  that  to  follow  occurring  just  outside  by  the 
entrance. 

It  was  between  two  of  the  four,  about  whom 
they  inside  had  been  conversing — Clarisse  and 
Eustace.  She  was  still  upon  his  arm,  as  he  had 
conducted  her.  off  the  dancing  ground ;  she  now 
rather  conducting  him  towards  that  quiet  spot, 
whither  she  had  no  idea  of  any  one  having  preceded 
them. 

"  It  seems  so  strange,  Captain  Trevor,  you  fight- 
ing for  the  Parliameat  ?  " 


GUARDIAN  ANGELS.  i^J 

**  Why  strange,  Mademoiselle  ?  " 

"Because  of  your  father,  and  all  your  family, 
being  on  the  King's  side  ;  your  brave  cousin  too. 
Besides,  you're  so  different  from  these  plebeian 
Puritans  and  Roundheads ;  unlike  them  in  every 
way." 

"  Not  every  way,  I  hope,  and  would  be  sorry  to 

think   I   was.     Rather  would    I    resemble    them   in 

their  ways  of  truth  and  right — their  aspirations  for 

"  liberty,   and^  the  self-sacrificing  courage  they  have 

shown  to  achieve  it." 

"  But  the  Cavaliers  show  courage  too ;  as  much, 
and  more  than  they." 

"  Neither  more,  nor  as  much.  Pardon  me. 
Mademoiselle,  for  contradicting  you.  Hitherto 
they've  been  better  horsed,  by  robbing  the  poor 
farmers,  emptying  every  stable  they  came  across. 
That's  given  them  the  advantage  of  us.  But 
there'll  be  a  turn  to  it  soon,  and  we  shall  pay  the 
score  back  to  Rupert  and  his  plunderers." 

"  Oh,  Captain  Trevor  !  To  speak  so  of  the  gallant 
Prince — calling  him  a  plunderer.     For  shame  1 " 

"  He's  all  that,  and  more — a  ruthless  murderer. 
Nor  is  the  King  himself  much  less,  after  his 
doings  of  the  other  day  with  the  wretched  captives 
of  Cirencester." 

"You  naughty,  naughty  rebel!"  she  rejoined, 
with  a  laugh  telling  how  little  the  misfortunes  of 
the  Cirencestrians  affected  her,  adding — "And  I 
feel  inclined  to  call  you  renegade  as  well." 

"  Call  me  that,  and  welcome.  Tis  no  disgrace 
for  a  man  to  turn  coat  when  he  discovers  he  has 
been  wearing  it  wrong  side  out ;  not  put  on  so  by 
himself  but  by  others.  For  what  I've  done,  Made- 
moiselle Lalande,  I  feel  neither  shame  nor 
repentance  ;  instead,  glory  in  it." 

"What    a    grand,    noble    fellow!"    thought    Sir 

Q 


526  NO  QUARTER  1 

Richard,  as  also  the  other  listener  inside  the 
pavilion ;  the  latter  with  added  reflection  how 
worthy  he  was  to  mate  with  her  sister. 

It  was  less  his  reasoning,  than  the  defiance 
flung  to  her  in  tone  so  independent,  that  caused 
the  Creole  to  shrink  back  from  what  she  had  said. 
Fearing  it  might  have  given  offence,  she  hastened 
to  heal  the  wound  by  the  salve  of  self-humiliation. 

"  O  sir !  I  but  spoke  jestingly ;  and  please 
don't  think  I  meant  reproaching  yoi*  As  you 
know,  we  women  have  but  little  understanding  of 
things  political ;  of  English  politics  I  less  than  any, 
from  being  a  stranger  to  the  country — ^almost  a 
foreigner.  In  truth,  I  know  not  clearly  which 
party  may  be  in  the  right.  Nor  do  I  care  either 
— that  is,  enough  to  quarrel  with  my  friends,  and 
certainly  not  with  yourself.  Captain  Trevor.  So 
please  pardon  what  IVe  said — forget  it.  You  will, 
won't  you  ?  " 

Her  naive  admission  and  submission  inclined 
him  to  a  better  opinion  of  her  than  he  had  hither- 
to entertained.  "After  all,"  thought  he,  "she  has 
a  woman's  heart  true,  but  led  astray  by  sinister 
surroundings."      So  reflecting,  he  returned  kindly, — 

"There's  nothing  either  to  be  pardoned  or  for- 
gotten, chere  Mademoiselle,  And  if  there  was,  how 
cvjuld  I  refuse  a  request  made  as  you  make  it?" 

He  spoke  more  warmly  than  had  been  his  wont 
with  her  ;  addressed  her  as  "  chere  Mademoiselle " 
— that  also  unusual.  It  was  all  on  the  spur  of 
thrt  moment,  and  without  thought  of  its  being 
taken  in  the  way  of  endearment.  But  it  was  so 
taken,  and  had  the  effect  of  misleading  her. 

*•  I'm  so  glad  we're  to  continue  friends,"  she 
exclaimed,  impressively;  then  in  changed  tone 
adding — "  About  my  glove  t  Is  it  to  be  returned  } 
Or  do  you  wish  to  keep  it  ?  " 


GUARDIAN   ANGELS.  22/ 

Questions  that  took  him  by  surprise,  at  the  same 
time  perplexing  him.  For,  though  offering  a  choice 
of  ways,  it  was  a  deh'cate  matter  which  should  be 
taken.  The  glove  was  still  in  his  hand,  as  he  had 
picked  it  up.  To  retain  it  would  imply  something 
more  than  he  was  in  the  mind  for;  while  return- 
ing it  implied  something  else,  equally  against  his 
inclinations.  It  might  give  offence — be  even  re- 
garded as  a  rudeness. 

A  happy  thought  struck  him — a  compromise 
which  promised  to  release  him  from  his  dilemma. 
The  glove  was  a  costly  thing,  embroidered  with 
thread  of  gold,  and  beset  with  jewels. 

"  It  is  too  valuable,"  he  said ;  "  I  could  not 
think  of  keeping  it.  Oh,  no!"  and  he  held  it  out 
towards  her. 

But  she  refused  to  take  it,  saying  with  a 
laugh,— 

"  Very  considerate  of  you,  sir  ;  and  thanks !  But 
Tm  not  so  poor,  that  it  will  be  impossible  for  me 
to  replace  it  by  one  of  like  value." 

Foiled,  he  drew  back  his  hand  ;  now  with  no 
alternative  but  to  keep  the  token  he  cared  not  for. 

"  Since  you  are  so  generous,  Mademoiselle,  I 
accept  your  gift  with  gratitude." 

Even  the  cold  formality  of  this  speech  failed  to 
dispel  the  illusion  she  had  been  all  the  night 
labouring  under.  Unused  to  discomfiture  of  any 
kind,  she  thought  not  of  defeat  in  the  game  of 
passion  she  was  playing. 

"  Oh !  it^s  nothing  to  be  grateful  for,"  she  lightly 
rejoined.  "Only  your  due  for  rescuing  me  from 
the  pursuing  enemy.     Ha-ha-ha  !  " 

He  was  about  to  stow  the  favour  under  the  breast 
of  his  doublet,  whea  he  saw  her  glance  go  up  to  the 
crown  of  his  hat,  over  which  still  waved  the  feathers 
of  the  egret,  plucked  by  the  base  of  Ruardean  hill. 


228  NO  quarter! 

"  Perhaps  you  wouldn't  care  to  carry  it  there  ? " 
she  said,  half  jestingly.  "  It  might  spoil  the  look 
of  that  pretty  plume." 

He  was  doubly  perplexed  now.  To  place  the 
glove  in  his  hat  meant  letting  it  remain  there, 
meant  more — a  symbol  to  show  that  the  giver  of 
it  was  esteemed  beyond  all  others.  And  that  in 
her  case  would  not  be  true.  Besides,  what  would 
she  say — what  think — whose  favour,  not  proffered 
but  asked  for,  was  already  there?  Despite  all  the 
contrarieties  of  the  night,  Eustace  Trevor  was  not 
prepared  to  break  with  Vaga  Powell  by  offering 
her  such  a  slight — an  insult  With  much  to  make 
him  sad  and  angry,  he  was  neither  sad  nor  angry 
enough  for  retaliation  as  that.  Sure,  moreover,  to 
recoil  upon  himself— a  reflection  which  needed  no 
other  to  determine  him. 

But  the  challenge  had  been  thrown  out,  and 
called  for  instant  response — a  yes  or  a  no.  Sub- 
terfuge was  no  longer  possible,  even  had  it  been 
of  his  nature,  and  he  resolved  upon  making  a 
clean  breast  of  it. 

"Mademoiselle  Lalande,  however  proud  of  the 
trophy  youVe  been  good  enough  to  bestow  on  me, 
there's  a  reason  why  I  cannot  wear  it  as  you 
suggest  ?  '* 

"  A  reason,  indeed  1 "  the  voice  in  a  tone  half 
vexed,  half  surprise.  "May  I  know  it?"  Then, 
as  if  repenting  the  question,  she  quickly  added, 
"  Oh,  never  mind  I  Give  me  back  my  glove,  sir. 
Good-night ! " 

They,  listening  inside  the  pavilion,  heard  no 
more  words,  only  the  sound  of  footsteps  passing 
away ;  first  light  ones  in  rapid  repetition ;  then 
others  heavier  and  slower;  after  which  silence  pro- 
found. 


CHAPTER     XXXV. 

A    COMPLETE    ECLAIRCISSEMENT, 

"Mademoiselle's  game  is  up.  You  see,  Sabrina, 
I  was  right,  and  he's  loyal  to  his  love — true  to 
the  gage  of  the  egret's  plume." 

"Indeed,  yes!  What  a  tale  for  Vagal  And 
I  shall  tell  It  her  soon." 

"Twill  gladden  her,  you  tWnk?*" 

"  Tm  quite  sure  of  it.  Though  1  haven't  evidence 
of    her    heart's   inclinings   in   speech   plain    as   that 

we've  just Hish  !     An<yther  couple  coming  thie 

way!  Really,  Richard,  we  ought  not  to  stay 
here ;  'tis  bad  as  being  eaves-droppers." 

**  Never  mind  about  the  eaves-dropping  It  will 
sit  light  on  my  conscience,  after  leading  to  such 
good  results.  Who  may  be  the  pair  approaching 
now,  I  wonder  1 " 

They  listened.  To  hear  music,  with  the  hum 
of  many  voices  afar  off ;  but  two  near,  and  drawing 
nearer. 

"  My  sister ! "  said  Sabrina,  almost  instantly 
recognising  one  of  them ;  then,  after  another  brief 
interval  of  silence,  adding,  "  and  Reginald  Trevor  ! '' 

Continuing  to  advance,  the  two  were  soon  up 
to  the  pavilion  ;  and  made  stop,  on  the  same 
spot  where  but  five  minutes  before  stood  their 
respective  cousins. 

Now,  however,  it  was  the  gentleman  who  spoke 
first — after    their    coming    to    a    stand — and    as    '\\ 

«»9 


^iO  NO   QUARTER  ! 

changing  the  subject  of  the  dialogue  already  in 
progress. 

"  My  cousin  Eust  seems  beside  himself  with 
Mademoiselle  Lalande.  I  never  saw  man  so  madly 
in  love  with  a  woman.  I  wonder  if  she  recipro- 
cates it?" 

He  was  pouring  gall  into  Vaga  Powell's  heart, 
and  apparently  without  being  conscious  of  it. 
For,  by  this,  he  had  reached  full  confidence  that 
his  own  love  was  reciprocated  by  her  with  whom 
he  was  conversing. 

"Like  enough,"  was  the  response,  in  tones  so 
despairingly  sad,  that,  but  for  his  being  a  fool  in 
his  own  conceit,  he  might  have  drawn  deductions 
from  it  to  make  him  suspect  his  folly.  More, 
could  he  have  but  seen  the  expression  upon  her 
features  at  that  moment — pain,  almost  agony. 
The  pantomimic  dance — ^just  over,  all  its  acts, 
incidents,  and  gestures  were  still  fresh  before  her 
mind — the  latest  the  most  vivid — the  dropping  of 
the  glove;  its  being  taken  up,  as  she  supposed, 
with  eager  alacrity ;  then,  the  man  she  loved 
throwing  wide  open  his  arms  to  receive  into  them 
the  woman  she  hated !  All  this  was  in  her 
thoughts,  a  very  tumult  of  trouble — in  her  heart 
as  a  flaming  fire. 

The  darkness  favoured  her,  or  Reginald  Trevor 
could  not  have  failed  perceiving  it  on  her  face. 
But,  indeed,  she  would  have  little  cared  if  he  had. 
Dissembling  with  him  all  the  night,  she  meant 
doing  so  no  more.  Though  the  play  was  not  with 
him,  the  game  had  gone  against  her ;  she  had  lost 
the  stakes,  as  she  supposed,  irretrievably ;  and  now 
would  retire  into  the  shadow  and  bitterness  of 
solitude. 

Little  dreamt  he  of  how  she  was  suffering,  or 
the    cause.      Knowing    it,   he    might    have    sprung 


A  COMPLETE  ECLAIRCISSEMENT.  23 1 

away   from   her  side,   quickly   and   angrily   as   had^ 
Clarisse  from  that  of  Eustace. 

Continuing  the  conversation,  he  said,  insinua- 
tingly,— 

"  On  second  thoughts,  Fm  wrong,  Mistress  Vaga. 
I  have  known  a  man  as  much  in  love  with  a 
woman  as  my  cousin  is  with  yours — know  one 
now  ? " 

"Indeed!" 

The  exclamatory  rejoinder  was  purely  mechanical, 
she  who  made  it  not  having  enough  interest  in  what 
had  been  said  to  inquire  who  was  the  individual 
he  alluded  to.  Yet  this  was  the  very  question  he 
courted.      He  had  to  angle  for  it  further,  saying, — 

"May   I   tell  you  who  it  is?" 

"  Oh,  certainly ;  if  you  desire  to  do  so.'* 

Even  this  icy  response  failed  to  check  him. 
He  either  did  not  perceive  its  coldness,  or  mistook 
it  for  reticence  due  to  the  occasion.  Several 
times,  since  his  first  abortive  attempt,  he  had 
been  on  the  eve  of  making  fuller  declaration  to 
her — in  short,  a  proposal  of  marriage.  But  she 
had  been  dancing  with  others  besides  himself,  and 
no  good  opportunity  had  as  yet  offered  That 
seemed  to  have  come  now.  So,  taking  advantage 
of  it,  and  her  permission,  he  said,  in  an  impressive 
way,— 

"The  man    is  Reginald  Trevor — myself." 

If  he  expected  her  to  give  a  start  of  feigned  sur- 
prise, ar.d*follow  it  up  by  the  inquiry,  "Who  is  the 
woman  ? "  he  was  disappointed.  For  he  but  heard 
repeated  the  laconic  exclamation  she  had  already 
used,  and  in  like  tones  of  careless   indifference. 

"  Indeed  ! "      That,  and    nothing   more. 

Still  unrepulsed  he  returned  to  the  attack ; 
again,  as  it  were,  begging  the  question^ — 

"  Shall  I  name  the  woman  ?  " 


232  NO  QUARTER  1 

"  Not  if  you   don't  wish   it,  sir." 

Response  that  should  have  made  him  withhoid 
the  information,  if  not  driven  him  from  her 
presence.  A  very  rebuff  it  was  ;  and  yet  Reginald 
Trevor  looked  not  on  it  in  this  light  Instead, 
still  strong  in  his  false  faith  and  foolish  hope,  he 
persisted,  saying, — 

"  But  I  do  wish  it,  and  will  tell  you ;  though 
you  may  little  care  to  know.  I  cannot  help  the 
confession.  She  I  love  is  yourself— yourself,  Vaga 
Powell  ;  and  'tis  with  all  my  heart,  all  my  soul ! " 

The  avowal,  full  and  passionate,  affected  her  no 
more  than  the  hints  he  had  already  thrown  out. 
In  the  same  calm  tone,  firm,  and  with  the  words 
measured,  she  made  response, — 

"  Captain  Trevor,  you've  told  me  almost  as  much 
before.  And  if  I  never  gave  you  answer  to  say 
the  feeling  you  profess  for  me  was  not  reciprocated, 
I  say  it  now.  It  is  not  — never  can  be.  Friends, 
if  you  wish,  let  us  remain  ;  but  for  the   other '* 

"  You  needn't  go  on  !  "  he  interrupted,  impatiently, 
almost  rudely.  "  I've  heard  enough ;  and  now 
know  what's  the  obstacle  between  us.  Not  your 
father,  as  I  once  supposed,  but  my  cousin.  Well, 
have  him,  if  you  can  get  him.  As  for  myself,  I'm 
consoled  by  thinking  there  are  as  good  fish  in  the 
sea  as  ever  were  caught  out  of  it,  and  I  go  to 
catch  one  of  them.     Adieu,  Mistress  Vaga  Powell ! " 

Saying  which,  he  strode  off  in  true  Cavalier 
swagger,  humming  a  gay  chanson;  having  left  her 
alone  in  the  darkness  of  night,  and  the  gloom  of 
despair. 

Only  for  an  instant  was  she  thus.  Then  she 
felt  arms  flung  around  her,  tenderly,  lovingly,  while 
listening  to  speech  which  promised  to  relieve  her 
of  her  misery. 

"  \   ws^s  so  glad,  Vag,"    said   Sabrina,   "  hea,ring 


A  COMPLETE  ECLAIRCISSEMENT.  233 

what  you  said.  And  I've  heard  something  said 
by  another,  at  which  you'll  be  glad,  when  I  tell 
it  you." 

Almost  at  the  same  instant  of  time,  though  in 
a  different  part  of  the  grounds,  Sir  Richard  Walwyn 
was  in  like  manner  promising  to  let  light  into 
the  heart  of  Eustace  Trevor. 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

AFTER    ROUNDWAY    DOWN. 

An  hundred  horsemen  riding  at  their  hardest — 
not  in  any  military  formation,  but  strung  out  in 
a  straggled  ruck — horsemen  steel-clad  from  crown 
to  hip,  some  with  helmets  battered  ;  others  baie- 
headed,  the  head-piece  gone;  cuirasses  showing 
dints,  as  from  stroke  of  halberd  or  thrust  of  pike  ; 
on  back  and  breastplate  blood  splashes,  dried  and 
turned  purple-black ;  boots,  mud-bespattered  and 
delahr^ — this  damaged  cohort  all  that  remained  of 
"  William  the  Conqueror*s  "  army  ! 

They  were  the  remnant  of  Hesselrig's  Horse, 
the  "Lobsters"  in  retreat  from  Roundway  Down, 
where  the  chivalrous,  but  too  reckless,  too  confi- 
dent Waller,  had  given-  battle  to  the  out-numbering 
enemy  under  Byron  and  Wilmot ;  been  defeated, 
and  put  to  utter  rout. 

It  was  the  wind  up  of  a  series  of  sanguinary 
engagements  with  the  Marquis  of  Hertford  and 
Prince  Maurice,  commencing  with  an  encounter 
on  the  low-wooded  bottom  between  Tog  and  Friz- 
noil  hills,  so  hotly  contested  that  veterans  there 
engaged,  who  had  gone  through  all  the  Low 
Country  and  German  campaigns,  declared  the 
most  furious  fights  they  ever  had  abroad  were 
but  sport  to  it. 

Carried  up  to  the  adjacent  height  of  Lansdown, 
from  which,   after  another  fierce  conflict,  the   Par' 


AFTEk  R6UNDWAY  DOWN.  235 

liamentarians  were  forced  t^  retire,  the  two  armies 
— what  remained  of  them — again  came  face  to  face 
on  the  elevated  plateau  of  Roundway  Down  ;  the 
final  scene  of  the  struggle  and  Waller's  discom- 
fiture. 

Hesselrig's  Cuirassiers  had  especially  suffered. 
With  ranks  broken,  and  many  of  them  unhorsed, 
they  were  all  but  helpless  in  their  unwieldy  armour, 
and  scores  got  tumbled  over  the  cliffs  of  the  Down. 
Of  a  well-appointed  regiment,  over  five  hundred 
strong,  which  but  a  few  days  before  had  filed  out 
through  the  gates  of  Bristol,  only  this  straggling 
troop — less  than  a  fifth  of  the  force,  still  kept  the 
saddle. 

Waller  was  himself  along  with  it — for  the  "Lob- 
sters "  formed  his  body-guard — so  too  Hesselrig, 
severely  wounded.  Crestfallen  both— it  could  not 
be  otherwise — but  with  no  cowed  or  craven  look. 
The  blood  upon  their  gauntlets  and  sword-hilts, 
on  their  blades  still  unwiped,  told  both  had  been 
where  cowards  would  not  be — in  the  thick  of  the 
fight.  Only  to  superior  numbers  had  they  yielded, 
and  were  now  retiring  sullenly  as  disabled  lions. 
If  they  rode  hard  and  fast  it  was  through  the 
urgency  of  their  followers,  who  feared  pursuit  be- 
hind with  the  fiendish  cry,  "  No  Quarter ! " 

Morn  was  just  dawning  as  the  retreating  troop 
caught  sight  of  Bristol's  towers — glad  to  their  eyes, 
giving  promise  of  refuge  and  rest.  This  last  they 
needed  as  much  as  the  first.  For  days  and  nights 
they  had  scarce  ever  been  out  of  the  saddle ;  looked 
wan  for  the  want  of  sleep,  and  were  weak  from 
fatigue  and  hunger.  Their  horses  blown  and  dead- 
beat,  many  of  them  staggering  in  their  gait.  No 
wonder  the  sight  of  that  city  was  welcome  to 
them. 

But  what   a  spectacle  they   themselves  to  those 


2^6  NO  QUARTER  ! 

inside  it,  to  the  hundreds,  nay  thousands,  who  gazed 
off  and  out  from  turret,  wall,  and  window !  The 
first  glimpse  got  of  them  was  by  the  warder  in  the 
Castle's  keep,  just  as  the  brightening  sky  enabled 
him  to  descry  objects  at  a  distance.  Then  other 
sentries  saw  them  from  the  watch  towers  of  the 
gates  on  that  side;  and  the  signal  of  alarm  ran 
along  the  line  of  fortification,  round  and  round. 
Soon  bells  rang,  trumpets  brayed,  and  drums  beat 
all  over  the  city,  startling  the  citizens  out  of  their 
sleep  and  beds.  Before  the  sun  had  yet  shown 
above  the  horizon,  not  onp  but  was  awake,  and 
most  out  of  doors.  Men  rushed  wildly  through 
the  streets  —  women  too  —  or  stood  aperch,  clus- 
tering on  every  eminence,  every  pinnacle  and  para- 
pet thick  as  bees,  with  eager,  anxious  glances 
scanning  the  country  outside.  At  length  to  fix 
them  on  the  long,  glittering  line— for  the  sheen  of 
the  cuirasses  were  not  all  gone  —  that  now  ap- 
proached in  slow,  laboured  pace,  as  the  crawl  of 
a  scotched  snake. 

When  near  enough  for  the  bare  heads  and  bat- 
tered helmets  to  be  distinguished,  the  blood  smouches 
on  dress,  arms,  and  accoutrements,  the  gloom  on 
brows  and  in  eyes,  with  lips  compressed  and 
features  hard  set  as  in  sullen  anger — when  these 
sure  insignia  of  disaster  were  fully  before  them, 
a  feeling  of  despondency  came  over  the  hearts  of 
the  Bristolians.  Intensified,  doubled,  when  at  the 
head  of  this  figment  of  a  force,  crushed  and 
shattered,  they  saw  Sir  William  Waller,  and  by 
his  side  Sir  Arthur  Hesselrig — the  two  leaders  so 
long  victorious  as  to  be  deemed  invincible !  They 
had  seen  them  ride  out  with  an  army  numbering 
nigh  6,000  men,  and  now  saw  them  returning,  in 
retreat,  with  but  a  bare  hundred !  These  so 
down-looking   and   dispirited,   that,  as   Waller  him- 


AFTER   ROUNDWAY  DOWN.  237 

self — candid  as  he  was  brave  —  confessed  in  his 
report  to  the  Lord-General,  "a  corporal  with  an 
ordinary  squadron  could  have  routed  them." 

To  many  who  witnessed  their  re-entry  within 
Bristol's  gates  it  was  as  much  spectre  as  spectacle 
— the  presentiment  of  misfortune  for  themselves. 

But  not  all  viewed  it  in  this  light.  There  were 
eyes  into  which  it  brought  a  sparkle  of  gratification  ; 
some  even  the  glow  of  anticipated  vengeance. 
During  Fiennes's  iron  rule,  the  "  malignants "  had 
been  much  humiliated,  and  the  prospect  of  a 
change,  themselves  to  have  the  upper  hand,  made 
them  jubilant.  And  there  were  the  relatives  and 
friends  of  the  so-called  "  State  Martyrs,"  with  the 
fate  of  these  fresh  in  their  mind,  burning  for  re- 
venge. Citizens  affected  to  the  King's  cause. 
Cavaliers,  whether  prisoners  on  parole  or  other- 
wise, the  tapsters,  gamesters,  and  tricksters  of 
every  speciality ;  in  a  word,  all  the  reprobacy  and 
blackguardism  of  Bristol,  high  and  low,  male  and 
female,  were  gleeful  at  a  sight  giving  them  fore- 
cast of  that  for  which  they  had  long  been  yearn- 
ing— an  opportunity  of  pillage  and  plunder.  It 
was  just  with  them,  as  it  would  be  with  their 
modern  representatives  the  Jingoes,  at  any  mis- 
chance to  Liberalism,  likely  to  give  the  Jew  of 
Hughenden  another  spell  at  despoiling  and  dis- 
honouring England.  For  they,  too,  were  doughty 
champions  of  beer  and  Bible,  with  whom  national 
honour  was  but  a  name,  the  nation's  glory  an 
empty  boast.  They,  as  Tories  now,  cared  not  for 
the  wrongs  and  sufferings  of  an  over-taxed  people, 
any  more  than  recks  Arab  slave-trader  the  tears 
and  lamentations  of  the  poor  human  beings  with 
black  skins  he  drives,  brute-like,  across  the  burn- 
ing sands  of  Africa.  For  is  not  the  whole  history 
of   Toryism,    from   its  commencement    up   to    tb^ 


238  NO  quarter! 

latest  chapter  find  verse,  a  record  of  sympathy  with 
the  wronger  and  unpitying  regardlessness  for  the 
wronged — an  exhibition  of  all  the  ferocity  known 
to  the  human  heart,  with  all  its  falsehood  and  mean- 
ness ? 


By  a  coincidence  in  no  way  singular,  but  simply 
from  two  events  chancing  to  occur  at  the  same 
time,  they  were  dancing  at  Montserrat  House, 
while  Waller  was  riding  in  retreat  from  Round  way 
Down.  Madame  Lalande's  ball  was  on  the  night 
after  the  battle,  July  13th. 

It  was  about  to  break  up,  for  day  was  dawning, 
and  cheeks  growing  pale.  Less  than  a  month  after 
mid-summer,  the  hour  was  not  so  much  into  morn- 
ing, and  there  were  some  tireless  votaries  of  Terp- 
sichore inclined  for  still  another  contredanse^  by 
way  of  wind  up.  This  came,  however,  in  a  man- 
ner more  sudden  and  unexpected.  First,  the  call 
notes  of  a  distant  bugle,  taken  up  and  responded  to 
by  others,  till  a  very  chorus  of  them  sounded  all 
over  the  city.  Then  a  taniara  of  drums,  and  the 
jangling  of  church  bells,  with  the  boom  of  a  great 
gun  from  the  Castle! 

Too  early  for  the  reveill^e — before  the  hour  of 
orisons — what  could  it  all  mean  ?  So  queried  they 
in  the  grounds  of  Montserrat  House,  gathering 
into  groups.  Certainly,  something  unusual ;  as  the 
fracas  not  only  continued  but  seemed  growing 
greater.  To  the  instrumental  sounds  were  added 
human  voices,  shouting  in  the  streets,  calls  and 
responses,  with  a  hurried  trampling  of  feet — men 
rushing  to  and  fro  ! 

Only  for  a  short  while  were  Madame  Lalande's 
guests  in  suspense.  Nor  had  they  to  go  outside 
for  explanation.     There  was   an   eminence    in    the 


AFTER  ROUNDWAY  DOWN.  239 

grounds  which  commanded  a  view  of  most  part 
of  Bristol,  with  the  country  beyond  the  fortified 
line,  south-eastward.  On  its  summit  stood  a  pa- 
vilion ;  the  same  which  on  that  night  had  been 
the  means  of  revealing  more  than  one  secret. 
And  now  from  this  spot  an  anxious  crowd — for 
scores  had  rushed  up  to  it — learnt  the  cause  of  the 
excitement.  Close  in  to  the  city's  walls,  about 
to  enter  one  of  the  gates,  was  the  shattered  rem- 
nant of  Hesselrig's  Horse — all  that  was  left  of 
Waller's  defeated  army  1 

If  the  dresses  of  those  who  clustered  round 
the  pavilion — most  in  fancy  costume — were  diversi- 
fied, varied  also  were  the  feelings  with  which  they 
regarded  this  new  spectacle  presented  to  them.  A 
surprise  to  all ;  to  many  an  unpleasant  one,  but 
most  viewing  it  with  delighted  eyes.  For,  unlike 
as  with  the  crowds  clustering  other  eminences 
outside,  within  that  precinct,  hitherto  almost  sacred 
to  Cavalierism,  this  was,  of  course,  in  the  ascen- 
dant. And  what  they  saw.  seemed  sure  evi- 
dence of  a  crushing  defeat  having  been  sus- 
tained by  their  adversaries ;  so  sure,  that  many 
who  had  all  the  night  behaved  modestly,  and 
worn  masks,  now  pulled  them  off  and  began  to 
swagger  in  true  Cavalier  fashion. 

Sir  Richard  Walwyn,  Eustace  Trevor,  and  other 
Parliamentarian  officers  present  were  compelled  to 
listen  to  observations  sufficiently  offensive.  Had 
they  been  themselves  unmannerly,  or  even  without 
it,  they  could  have  stopped  all  that,  being  still 
masters  in  Bristol.  But  there  was  no  need  for 
their  showing  spite  by  taking  the  initiative ;  as 
this  was  forced  upon  them,  whether  or  no,  by 
command  and  the  simple  performance  of  duty. 
While  Madame  Lalande's  guests  were  hastening 
to  take  their  departure,  a  man,  newly  arrived,  made 


240  No  QUARTER  ! 

appearance  in  their  midst ;  an  officer,  wearing 
sabretasche  and  other  insignia  of  an  aide-de-camp 
Entering  unannounced  at  the  outer  gate,  without 
ceremony  he  strode  on  up  to  the  house,  inquiring 
for  Sir  Richard  Walwyn. 

"  Here  ! "  responded  the  knight,  himself  about  to 
leave  the  place ;  and  he  stepped  forth  to  meet  the 
new  comer. 

"From  the  Governor,  Colonel  Walwyn,"  said  the 
aide-de-camp,  saluting,  and  drawing  a  slip  of  folded 
paper  from  his  sabretasche,  which  he  handed  to 
the  Colonel  of  Horse,  adding,  "In  all  haste." 

Tearing  it  open,  Sir  Richard  read  :— 

*^  Re- arrest  all  prisoners  on  parole^  whether  soldiers 
or  civilians.  Search  the  city  through,  arid  send  them 
under  guard  to  the  Castle, 

*  FlENNES. 

"  To  the  Colonel  Walwyn^ 

**  Here's  a  revanche  for  us,  Trevor,"  said  the 
knight,  communicating  the  contents  of  the  despatch 
to  his  young  troop  captain,  "  if  we  are  ill-natured 
enough  to  care  for  such.  Anyhow,  we'll  stop  the 
speech  of  some  of  those  fellows  who've  been 
making  themselves  so  free  of  it.  Haste  down 
to  quarters,  and  bring  Sergeant  Wilde  with  half 
a  dozen  files.  We  may  as  well  begin  our  work 
here.  Why,  bless  me  1  there's  the  man  himself, 
and  the  soldiers,  too  ! " 

This,  at  the  sight  of  the  big  sergeant,  who  was 
just  entering  the  gate,  and  behind  him  a  score  of 
dismounted  troopers.  Rob  had  already  received 
orders  from  the  Castle  to  report  himself  with  a 
detachment  at  Montserrat  House. 

A  scene  followed  difficult  of  description.  Kings, 
Sultans,   Crusaders — in   costume    only — with    many 


AFTER   ROUNDWAY   DOWN.  24I 

oth^r  disguised  dignitaries,  were  unceremoniously 
stopped  in  their  masquerading ;  each  taken  charge 
of  by  a  common  trooper,  and  pinned  to  the  spot. 
Many  repented  the  imprudence  of  having  thrown 
aside  their  masks.  By  keeping  these  on  they 
might  have  escaped  recognition.  It  was  too  late 
to  restore  them  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes'  time  the 
paroled  prisoners  were  picked  out,  and  ranged  in 
line  for  transport  to  the  Castle's  keep. 

In  all  this  there  was  much  of  the  comic  and 
grotesque ;  on  both  sides  even  badinage  and 
laughter.  But  there  was  ange<-  too — Madame  La- 
lande  and  her  daughter  especially  indignant — while 
among  the  faces  late  unmasked  w^re  some  showing 
serious  enough,  even  rueful.  To  tLem  it  might  be 
no  jesting  matter  in  the  end. 

On  the  countenance  of  Reginald  Trevor  —  of 
course  one  of  the  re-arrested — the  expression  was 
singularly  varied.  As  well  it  might,  after  so  many 
changes  quick  succeeding  one  another — jealousy  ol 
his  cousin  ;  confidence  in  his  sweetheart  restored 
soon  to  be  lost  again  ;  and  now  that  cousin  con- 
fronting  him,  as  was  his  duty,  with  a  demand 
terribly  humiliating.  Yet  Eustace  had  no  desire 
to  make  it  so ;  instead  the  reverse.  For,  mean- 
while, Sir  Richard  had  whispered  a  word  in  hi? 
ear  which  went  fa:  to  remove  the  suspicions  late 
tormenting  him.     He  but  said, — 

**  IVe  orders  to  take  you  to  the  Castle,  Reginald." 

Then  to  avoid  speech,  which  might  be  unpleasant 
to  both,  he  turned  away,  leaving  the  prisoner  to  be 
looked  after  by  Rob  Wilde,  who  had  commands  to 
conduct  him  to  his  prison.       • 

"Come,  captain!"  said  the  big  sergeant  patroni- 
singly,  "we  han't  a  great  ways  to  go.  Not  nigh 
sich  a  distance  as  ye  'tended  takin'  me — frae  Cat's 
Hill  to  the  lock-up  at  Lydney." 


242  NO  quarter! 

The  Royalist  officer  keenly  felt  the  satirical  jibe 
flung  at  him  by  the  Forester,  but  far  more  the  play 
of  a  pair  of  eyes  that  were  looking  down  upon 
him  from  one  of  the  upper  windows.  For  there 
stood  Vaga  Powell,  a  witness  to  all  that  was  passing 
below.  In  a  position  almost  identical  he  had  seen 
her  twice  before,  with  the  expression  upon  her  face 
very  similar.  It  puzzled  him  then,  but  did  not  vex 
him  as  now.  For  now  he  better  understood  it ; 
and,  as  he  was  marched  off  from  Montserrat  House, 
he  carried  with  him  no  sustaining  faith  or  hope,  as 
when  riding  away  from  Hollymead. 

Eustace  also  saw  her  at  the  window,  as  he  was 
passing  off.  But  different  was  the  look  she  gave 
him,  and  his  given  back.  In  their  exchanged 
glances  there  was  a  mutual  intelligence,  whidi  told 
that  their  respective  guardian  angels  had  kept 
promise  by  whispering  sweet  words  to  both. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII. 

riENNES  SHOWS  THE  WHITE  FEATHER. 

Waller's  stay  in  Bristol  was  of  the  shortest,  only 
long  enough  to  rest  his  wearied  men  and  their 
jaded  horses.  The  "  Night  Owl  **  was  not  the  bird 
to  relish  being  engaged  in  a  beleaguered  city,  which 
he  anticipated  Bristol  would  soon  be.  The  field, 
not  the  fortress,  was  his  congenial  sphere  of 
action ;  and  though  sadly  dispirited,  his  army  all 
gone,  he  had  not  yet  yielded  to  despair.  He 
would  recruit  another,  if  it  cost  him  his  whole  for- 
tune. So  "  To  horse ! "  and  off  again  without 
delay — Hesselrig  along  with  him. 

London  was  his  destination,  and  to  reach  it, 
with  such  feeble  escort,  a  dangerous  enterprise. 
For  it  was  but  continuing  his  retreat  through  a 
country  swarming  with  the  triumphant  enemy. 
With  a  skill  worthy  of  Cyrus  he  made  it  good, 
however;  going  round  by  Gloucester,  Warwick, 
and  Newport  Pagnell,  at  length  arriving  safe  in 
the  metropolis. 

But  what  of  the  citizens  of  Bristol  he  left 
behind  ?  If  they  had  been  despondent  on  seeing 
the  shattered  Cuirassiers  re-enter  their  city  not 
long  after  these  left,  they  saw  another  sight  which 
filled  them  with  dismay.  Also  a  body  of  horse- 
men approaching  the  place ;  not  a  skeleton  of  a 
regiment  m  retreat,   but    the    vanguard   of  a  vic- 

«43 


^44  NO  quarter! 

torious  army — that  which  had  won  the  day  at 
Roundway  Down.  For  as  the  defeated  one  had 
suffered  utter  annihilation,  the  western  shires,  now 
overrun  by  the  Royalists,  were  completely  at  their 
mercy.  The  only  Parliamentarian  forces  that  re- 
mained there  were  the  garrisons  of  Gloucester  and 
Bristol,  and  it  was  but  a  question  as  to  which 
should  be  first  assaulted. 

The  former  had  already  experienced  something 
of  a  siege,  and,  thanks  to  its  gallant  Governor,  suc- 
cessfully resisted  it ;  while  its  bigger  sister,  farther 
down  the  Severn,  only  knew  what  it  was  to  be 
threatened.  But  the  Bristolians  also  knew  their 
city  to  be  better  game — a  richer  and  more  tempt- 
ing prize — and  that  they  might  expect  the  plun- 
derers at  any  moment.  So  when  they  beheld  the 
Light  Horse  of  Wiimot  and  Byron  scouring  the 
country  outside,  and  up  to  their  very  gates,  they 
had  little  doubt  of  their  being  the  precursors  of 
a  larger  and  heavier  force — an  army  on  the  march 
to  assail  them. 

Soon  it  appeared  in  formidable  array,  and 
leaguer  all  round.  For  there  was  more  than  one 
army  left  free  to  enfilade  them.  First  came  up 
the  conquering  host  of  Hertford  and  Maurice, 
fresh  from  the  field  of  Lansdown.  Then,  on  the 
Oxford  side,  appeared  Rupert  with  his  free-booters, 
fire-handed  from  the  burning  of  Birmingham,  and 
red-wristed  from  the  slaughter  at  Chalgrove; 
where,  by  the  treachery  of  the  infamous  Urrey, 
they  had  let  out  the  life-blood  of  England's  purest 
patriot 

In  a  very  revel  of  Satanic  delight  they  drew 
around  the  doomed  city,  as  eagles  preparing  to 
stoop  at  prey,  or  rather  as  vultures  on  quarry 
already  killed.  For  it  had  neither  strength  of  for- 
tification,  nor    defending    force   sufficient    to   resist 


FIENNES  SHOWS  THE  WHITE  FEATHER.       245 

them.  As  already  said,  Waller  going  west  had 
almost  stripped  it  of  its  defenders,  numbers  of 
whom  were  now  lying  dead  on  the  downs  of 
Wiltshire,  as  the  Royalist  leaders  well  knew.  So 
there  was  no  question  as  between  siege  and  as- 
sault, Rupert,  soon  as  arrived  on  the  ground,  deter* 
mining  to  storm. 

And  storm  it  was,  commenced  the  next  morning 
at  earliest  hour.  Successful  on  the  Gloucester 
side,  where  Rupert  himself  attacked,  and  the 
traitor  Langrish,  with  the  timid  Fiennes,  defended. 
After  all  his  boasting,  the  lawyer-soldier  let  the 
enemy  in,  almost  without  striking  a  blow.  Nor 
did  they  pass  over  his  dead  body  either.  He 
survived  the  sad  day,  but  never  more  to  be  trusted 
with  sword  in  the  cause  of  a  struggling  people. 

Very  different  was  the  defence  on  the  southern 
side,  and  of  different  stuff  the  defenders.  There 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn  with  his  Foresters,  and  Birch 
with  his  Bridgemen,  held  the  ramparts  against 
Hertfort  and  Maurice,  not  only  foiling  the  attack, 
but  beating  them  off.  In  that  quarter  had  been 
blows  enough,  with  blood  flowing  in  rivers.  The 
Cornish  men  were  cut  down  by  scores,  among  them 
some  of  their  best  leaders,  as  Slanning  and  Tre- 
vannion.  Alas!  all  in  vain.  Alike  to  no  purpose 
proved  the  gallantry  of  the  soldier-knight  and  the 
stanch  courage  of  the  merchant-soldier !  Unavail- 
able their  deeds  of  valour ;  for  while  they  were 
fighting  the  foe  in  their  front — in  the  act  of 
putting  him  to  rout — behind  they  heard  a  trumpet 
sounding  signals  for  parley!  And  turning,  beheld 
a  white  flag,  waving  from  a  staff,  within  the  city's 
walls!  Saw  and  heard  all  this  with  amazement. 
On  their  side  the  assailants  were  repulsed,  and 
Bristol  still  safe.  Why  then  this  show  .  of  sur- 
render?    Could  it  be  treason? 


246  NO  quarter! 

Birch  believed  it  was,  though  not  on  the  part 
of  Fiennes.  He  was  but  vacillating  and  frightened, 
Langrish  playing  the  traitor,  as  the  events  proved, 
ending  in  capitulation.  But  while  Sir  Richard  and 
his  troopers  were  still  in  doubt  about  the  purport 
of  the  signals,  they  saw  an  aide-de-camp  galloping 
towards  them — the  same  who  brought  the  despatch 
to  Montserrat  House  at  the  breaking  up  of  the 
ball.  A  verbal  message  he  carried  now — command 
for  them  to  cease  fighting. 

"And  why.?"  demanded  the  astonished  knight, 
other  voices  asking  the  same,  as  much  in  anger  as 
astonishment.  "  For  what  reason  should  we  cease 
fighting  ?     WeVe  on  the  eve  of  victory  ! " 

"  I  know  not  the  reason,  Colonel  Walwyn,"  re- 
sponded the  aide-de-camp,  evidently  ashamed  of 
the  part  he  was  constrained  to  play ;  "  only  that 
they've  beaten  us  on  the  Gloucester  side,  and  got 
into  the  works.  The  Governor  asked  for  an  ar- 
mistice, which  Prince  Rupert  has  granted." 

"  Oh  !  you  have  Rupert  round  there,  have  you  ? 
I  thought  as  much.  This  is  Langrish's  doing. 
Gentlemen,"  he  observed  to  the  officers  now  gather- 
ing around  him,  "we  may  guess  how  'twill  end 
— in  a  base,  traitorous  surrender.  Possibly  to  be 
delivered  over  to  the  tender  mercies  of  this  princely 
freebooter.  Are  you  ready  to  risk  it  with  me,  and 
cut  our  way  out?" 

"Ready — ^yes!"  responded  Eustace  Trevor,  and 
the  men  of  the  Forester  troop,  loudest  of  all  their 
sergeant. 

**  We,  too ! "  cried  the  Bridgemen,  Birch  giving 
them  the  cue  ;  while  others  here  and  there  echoed 
the  daring  resolve. 

But  the  majority  were  silent,  and  shrank  back. 
It  was  too  hopeless,  too  desperate,  running  the 
gauntlet  against  countless  odds.      With   the  whole 


fl|5:NNES  SHOWS  THE  WHITE  FEATHER.       247 

garrison  agreeing  to  it,  there  might  have  been  a 
chance.  But  they  knew  this  would  be  divided,  in 
view  of  the  treason  hinted  at. 

While  they  were  still  in  debate  as  to  what 
should  be  done,  another  mounted  messenger  came 
galloping  up  with  news  which  quickened  their  de- 
liberation, bringing  it  almost  instantly  to  a  close. 
The  enemy  had  offered  honourable  terms,  and 
Fiennes  had  accepted  them.  It  was  no  longer  a 
question  of  surrender,  but  a  fait  accompli. 

"  What  are  the  conditions  ?  *'  every  one  eagerly 
asked. 

To  get  answer :  "  No  prisoners  to  be  taken,  no 
plundering.  Soldiers,  and  all  who  have  borne  arms 
against  the  King,  left  free  to  march  out  and  away. 
Citizens  the  same,  if  they  wish  it.  Three  days  to 
be  allowed  the  disaffected  for  clearing  out  of  the 
city,  and  removal  of  household  effects."  After 
that — ay,  and  before  it,  as  the  wise  ones  believed 
—it   would   be  "  ware  the  pillager ! " 

On  its  face  the  bond  was  fair  and  reasonable 
enough,  and  many  were  rather  surprised  at  its 
leniency.  Certainly,  to  one  unacquainted  with  the 
circumstances,  such  conditions  of  surrender  might 
seem  more  than  generous.  But  knowing  the 
motives,  all  idea  of  generosity  is  at  once  elimi- 
nated. Around  to  Rupert  had  come  the  report  of 
repulse  on  the  southern  side — Slanning  killed,  Tre- 
vannion,  too;  with  slaughter  all  along  the  Cornish 
line,  and  a  likelihood  of  utter  rout  there.  Besides, 
two  or  three  scores  of  distinguished  prisoners 
inside  Bristol  had  to  be  considered  ;  these  no 
longer  on  parole,  but  jailed,  and  still  held  as 
hostages.  With  these  gages  against  any  attempt 
at  cruel  extortion,  none  could  be  safely  made  ;  and 
the  keys  of  Bristol  were  handed  over  to  Prince 
Rupert  by  Nathaniel   Fiennes  in  a  quiet,   consent- 


^48  NO  Quarter! 

ingy    almost   amicable   way,  as    might    the   seals   of 
office  from  a  going-out  mayor  to  his  successor. 

How  the  son  of  the  Elector  Palatinate  honoured 
the  trust,  and  kept  faith  with  his  word,  is  matter 
of  history.  He  did  neither  one  nor  the  other ; 
instead,  disregarded  both,  basely,  infamously.  Soon 
as  his  followers  were  well  inside  the  gates,  as  had 
been  predicted,  there  was  pillage  unrestrained ;  in- 
sult and  outrage  to  every  one  they  encountered 
on  the  streets,  women  not  excepted.  This  was 
the  way  of  the  Cavaliers — the  self-proclaimed 
gentlemen  o(  England 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII. 

INSULTING  A  FALLEN   FOE. 

A  VERY  saturnalia  of  riot  and  rapine  followed 
the  capture  of  Bristol.  For  the  conditions  of  sur- 
render were  broken  before  the  ink  recording  them 
was  dry,  and  the  soldiers  fell  to  sacking,  unre- 
strained. There  were  plenty  of  spiteful  "malig- 
nants"  to  point  out  who  should  be  the  victims, 
though  little  recked  the  royal  hirelings  what 
house  they  entered,  or  whose  goods  appropriated. 
All  was  fish  to  their  net ;  and  so  the  plundering 
went  on,  with  scenes  of  outrage  indescribable. 

Fiennes  has  left  testimony  that  Rupert  did  his 
best  to  stay  his  ruffian  followers,  cuffing  and 
striking  them  with  the  flat  of  his  sword.  Light 
blows  they  must  have  been,  administered  more 
in  jest  than  earnest,  with  aim  to  throw  dust 
in  the  eyes  of  the  now  ex- Governor  and  his  staf? 
standing  by.  The  men  on  whose  shoulders  they 
fell  paid  little  heed  to  them ;  for  had  they  not 
been  promised  the  sacking  of  Bristol  ?  An  inter- 
cepted letter  from  Byron,  of  massacre  memory, 
to  Rupert  himself,  puts  this  scandalous  fact  be- 
yond the  possibility  of  contradiction  or  denial. 

That  promise  was  kept  faithfully  enough,  and 
the  license  allowed  in  full.  Every  house  of  a 
Parliamentarian,  noted  or  not,  received  a  domi- 
ciliary visit,  and  was  stripped  of  its  valuables — 
all   that  could   not    be  hidden   away — while   ladies 


^SO  NO  quarter! 

of  highest  respectability  were  subjected  to  insult 
It  was  Bristol's  first  experience  of  victorious 
Cavalierism ;  and  even  they  who  had  conspired 
to  introduce  the  sweet  thing  had  their  surfeit  of 
it  ere  long. 

By  the  terms  of  capitulation  the  soldiers  of  the 
vanquished  garrison  were  to  march  out  unmolested. 
But  they  must  go  at  once,  so  as  to  vacate  quarters 
for  the  in- coming  conquerors.  To  civilians  three 
days  were  allowed  for  decision  as  to  staying  or 
going,  with  the  implied  right  of  removing  their 
effects.  This  last  clause  may  seem  a  sorry  jest, 
since  there  was  not  much  left  them  for  removal. 
Of  course,  all  who  knew  themselves  compromised, 
and  had  the  means,  decided  on  going. 

Among  these,  it  need  scarce  be  said,  was  the 
Master  of  Hollymead.  Under  royal  ban  already, 
he  knew  Bristol  would  no  longer  be  a  safe  place 
of  residence,  either  for  himself  or  his  daughters. 
Perhaps  he  feared  more  for  them  under  the  aegis 
of  such  an  aunt,  and  the  companionship  of  such  a 
cousin.  The  Cavalier  wolves  would  now  be  raven- 
ing about  free  from  all  restraint — admitted  to 
Montserrat  House,  and  there  made  more  welcome 
than  ever.  Sad  he  had  been  at  finding  his  sister 
so  changed  ;  irksome  the  sojourn  under  her  roof ; 
and  now  that  opportunity  offered  to  take  depar- 
ture he  hastened  to  embrace  it.  So  eager  was  he 
to  get  away  from  the  surrendered  city,  that  he 
would  not  avail  himself  of  the  three  days'  grace, 
but  determined  to  set  forth  on  Ihe  morning  after 
the  surrender. 

Luckily  he  had  but  few  effects  to  embarrass 
him,  having  left  his  plate  and  other  Penates  in 
Gloucester,  whither  he  intended  repairing.  It 
remained  but  to  provide  transport  in  the  way  of 
saddle-horses,  just   then   a   scarce   and  costly  com- 


rasUI-TmO     A   FALLEN  FOE.  23I 

Biocrttv  m  Bristol  But  cost  what  they  might, 
Ambrose  x  owell  ha  the  mt  ans  of  obtaining  them ; 
and  tha4:  n  *ght,  ere  re^'^ring  t  o  rest,  he  had  every- 
thing ready,  ^i?  daughters  had  been  warned 
and  were  prepared  for  the  jour  "^y»  ^^}^  of  them 
eager  as  himself  to  set  out  upon  ^  neither  caring 
ever    to    set    eyes    on    Aunt    Lala^^^    or    Cousin 

Clarisse  again. 

«  «  «  «  * 

Still  another  sunrise,  and  the  people  of  Bristol 
were  treated  to  a  spectacle  different  from  any  that 
had  preceded,  or  they  had  ever  witnessed.  They  saw 
the  late  defenders  of  their  city,  now  disarmed  and 
half-disbanded,  marching  away  from  it,  out  through 
its  gates,  and  between  files  of  their  foes,  these  last 
lining  the  causeway  for  some  distance  outside. 

In  such  cases,  among  the  soldiers  of  civilized 
countries,  it  is  a  rule,  almost  universal,  tha'L  no 
demonstration  be  made  by  the  conquerors  to  insui., 
or  further  humble  the  conquered.  Mor^  Ol*.?.n  may 
be  heard  expressions  of  sympathy  -veu  d^-ds  of 
kindness  done.  But  all  was  dincrcnt  It  ihis  ^he 
first  surrender  of  Bristol.  ^^,  the  defeated  soldiefg 
marched  out,  many  with  -/es  downcast  and  mien 
dejected,  no  word  nor  look  of  otty  was  bestowed 
on  them.  Instead,  they  were  assayed  with  taunts 
and  derisive  cries,  some  even  get  ^^  kick  or  cuff 
as  they  ran  the  gauntlet  between  the  lines  of  their 
t^MC6M/it  enemies.  And  th^^^  e  were  "the  gallants 
of  England,"  ready  to  « st  ike  home  for  their 
King,"  as  one  of  their  songs  puts  it  ;  but  as  ready 
to  be  spit  upon  by  King,  or  Prince,  if  it  so  pleased 
him.  Gallants  indeed  !  As  much  desecration  of 
the  term  applied  to  the  Cavalier  of  Charles's  time 
as  to   the   music-hall  cad   of   our  Victorian  era. 

The   chief    exodus   of    the     departing    Parliamen- 
tarians  was  by  the  gate,  and    along  the  road  lead* 


252  NO  quarter! 

ing  to  Gloucester.  There  was  nothing  in  the 
articles  of  capitulation  to  hinder  them  again  taking 
up  arms.  For  reasons  already  stated  they  were 
not  prisoners,  not  bound  by  parole  d'honneur^  but 
free  to  turn  round  and  face  the  foe  now  exulting 
over  them  whenever  opportunity  should  offer. 
As  a  consequence,  most  took  the  route  for 
Gloucester,  where  the  stanch  Massey  still  held 
his  ground,  and  would  be  glad  to  avail  himself 
of  their  services. 

But  not  all  making  away  were  soldiers.  In  the 
-stream  of  moving  humanity  were  citizens,  men 
and  women,  even  whole  families  who  had  forsaken 
their  homes,  dreading  ill-treatment  at  the  hands 
of  the  Royalist  soldiery ;  fleeing  from  Bristol  as 
Lot  from  the  doomed  cities  of  the  plain.  Among 
these  fugitives  many  a  spectacle  of  wretchedness 
was  presented,  at  which  the  unfeeling  brutes  who 
were  witnesses   but  laughed. 

Outside,  and  not  far  from  the  gate  through 
which  the  motley  procession  was  passing,  Rupert 
sat  in  his  saddle,  the  central  figure  of  a  group 
of  splendidly  uniformed  officers.  They  were  his 
personal  staff,  wnth  the  ilite  of  his  army,  gathered 
there  to  gloat  over  the  humiliation  of  adversaries 
who  had  oft  humiliated  them.  Gentle^nen  as  they 
deemed  themselves,  some  could  not  resist  grati- 
fying their  vengeful  spleen,  but  gave  exhibition  of 
it,  in  speech  coarse  and  ribald  as  any  coming  from 
the  lips  of  their  rank-and-file  followers.  In  all 
of  which  they  were  encouraged  by  the  approving 
laughter  of  their  Prince  and  his  high-toned  entourage. 

Never  merrier  than  on  that  morn  were  these 
jovial  gentry ;  believing  as  they  did  that  the  fall 
of  Bristol  was  the  prelude  to  their  triumph  over 
all  England,  and  henceforth  they  would  have  it 
their  own  way. 


INSULTING  A  FALLEN   ^O^.  ^ 

While  at  the  height  of  their  exultation  a  troop 
came  filing  along  the  causeway,  the  sight  of  which 
brought  a  sudden  change  over  the  countenances 
of  the  jesters.  It  was  composed  of  men  in  cavalry 
uniform,  but  afoot  and  without  arms ;  only  some 
half-dozen — the  officers — on  horseback.  Its  stan- 
dard, too,  taken  from  it,  and,  perhaps,  well  it  had 
been.  Flouted  before  the  eyes  of  that  Cavalier 
crew,  alike  regardless  of  oath  and  honour,  the 
banner,  showing  Crown  impaled  by  Sword,  would 
have  been  torn  to  shreds  ;  they  bearing  it  set  upon 
and  cut  to  pieces. 

But  it  needed  no  ensign,  nor  other  insignia,  to 
tell  who  the  dismounted  and  dismantled  troopers 
were.  Many  around  Rupert  had  met,  fought  with, 
and  fled  from  them ;  while  all  had  heard  of  Sir 
Richard  Walwyn's   Horse,  and  his  big  sergeant. 

These  they  were,  but  in  woefully  diminished  num- 
bers— worse  than  their  sorry  plight.  They  had  borne 
the  brunt  of  battle  on  the  southern  side  ;  and  although 
they  had  slain  hundreds  of  the  Cornish  men,  it 
v/as   with  a    terrible    thinning  of  their  own  ranks. 

But  their  gallant  leader  was  still  at  their  head 
and  by  his  side  Eustace  Trevor,  with  his  veteran 
trumpeter  Hubert ;  while,  though  marching  afoot, 
almost  as  conspicuous  as  the  mounted  ones,  there 
too  was  the  colossal  sergeant  erst  deerstealer,  Rob 
Wilde.  All  proudly  bearing  themselves,  notwith- 
standing what  had  transpired.  No  thought  of 
having  been  conquered  had  they  ;  instead,  the  con- 
sciousness of  being  conquerors.  And  less  angry  at 
the  men  with  whom  they  had  been  fighting  than  at 
him  for  whom  they  had  fought.  Nathaniel  Fiennes 
had  either  betrayed  them  and  their  cause,  or  proved 
incapable  of  sustaining  it.  It  was  on  that  account 
they  looked  scowling  and  sullen,  as  they  filed  past 
Rupert  and  his  surrounding. 


^S4  ^^  QUAkTERl 

But  if  their  black  looks  were  given  back  by  the 
Royalist  officers,  these  forbore  the  taunting  speech 
they  had  hitherto  poured  upon  others.  Something 
of  shame,  if  not  self-respect,  restrained  them. 
They  knew  it  would  but  recoil  on  themselves,  as 
with  curs   barking  at  lions. 

As  Sir  Richard  and  his  troop  captain  came 
opposite,  two  officers  alongside  Rupert  exchanged 
looks  with  them  of  peculiar  significance.  Colonel 
Tom  Lunsford  and  Captain  Reginald  Trevor  these 
were.  Both  released  from  their  imprisonment — 
the  latter  but  the  day  before — they  were  now  not 
only  free,  but  in  full  feather  and  favour,  appointed 
to  the  Prince's  staff. 

The  interchange  of  glances  between  the  quartette 
was  each  to  each ;  the  ex-lieutenant  of  the  Tower 
alone  regarding  the  soldier  knight,  and  with  a  sneer 
of  malicious  triumph.  He  would  have  added 
words,  but  dreaded  getting  words  back  that  might 
rake  up  old  scores,  as  when  they  last  met  at  Holly- 
mead,  exposing  his  poltroonery.  So  he  contented 
himself  with  a  sardonic  grin,  to  get  in  return  for 
it  a  look  of  contempt,  too  scornful  and  lordly  to 
care  for  expression  in  speech. 

The  play  of  eyes  between  the  cousins  was  alike 
full  of  meaning,  and  equally  unintelligible  to 
lookers  on  who  knew  not  the  antecedents.  But 
they  passed  words  as  well ;  only  a  remark  with 
rejoinder,  the  former  even  unfinished.  Reginald, 
still  smarting  from  the  incidents  of  that  night  at 
Montserrat  House,  could  not  restrain  his  tongue ; 
and,  as  the  other  came  close,  he  said,  with  his  old 
affectation  of  superiority, — 

*'  If  I'd  only  had  the  chance  to  meet  you  on  the 
ramparts  yesterday  morning,  I  would " 

"  You  would  be  there  now,  without  me,"  was  the 
interrupting    retort.      "  Down    among    the    Cornish 


INSULTING   A  FALLEN   FOE.  25$ 

dead    men.     That's  what   you   intended  telling   me, 
isn't  it  ? " 

Thus  again  getting  the  better  in  the  encounter 
of  words,  with  a  light  laugh  Eustace  rode  on, 
leaving  his  cousin  angrier  than  ever,  more  than 
ever  desirous  of  crossing  swords  with  him  to  the 
cry  of  **No  Quarter  I  •* 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

A  PRINCELY  ADMIRER. 

"  Mein  Gott,  what  a  sweet  fraiilein  I  A  pait 
of  them  !      Wunderschon  I  ** 

It  was  Prince  Rupert  who  so  exclaimed,  his 
eyes  turned  upon  two  young  girls  in  a  gaze  of 
more  than  ordinary  interest 

Ladies  they  were,  as  grace,  garb,  and  other  sur- 
roundings proclaimed  them.  On  horseback,  an 
elderly  gentleman  along  with  them,  riding  in  front  ; 
and  behind  a  small  retinue  of  servants,  male  and 
female.  They  had  just  issued  out  of  the  gate  as 
part  of  the  stream  of  people  hastening  away  from 
the  city,  and  were  coming  on  towards  the  spot 
occupied  by  the  Royalist  commander  and  his 
staff. 

Still  looking  after  the  Forest  troop,  not  yet  out 
of  sight,  Reginald  Trevor  faced  round  on  hearing 
the  Prince's  exclamatory  words.  Chafed  already 
by  the  sharp  retort  of  his  cousin,  what  he  saw  now 
gave  him  a  fresh  spasm  of  chagrin.  Ambrose 
Powell  and  his  daughters  setting  off  on  a  journey, 
evidently  for  Gloucester,  whither  Eustace  was 
going  too! 

Lunsford  had  also  caught  sight  of  them,  showing 
almost  as  much  excitement,  with  more  surprise. 
Just  out  of  Berkeley  Castle,  where  he  had  been  in- 
carcerated ever  since  the  affair  of  Edgehill,  he  had 
not   he^rd   of   the   Powell   family  being  in   Bristol. 


A  PRINCELY  ADMIRER.  ^5? 

And  now  beholding  the  woman  whose  beauty  had 
so  impressed  him  while  tax-collecting  in  the  Forest 
of  Dean,  it  gave  him  a  start,  succeeded  by  a  feel- 
ing of  vexation  to  see  she  was  going  away,  again 
to  be  beyond  his  reach. 

By  this  the  travelling  party  had  got  opposite, 
and  were  passing  on.  Poorly  mounted  all,  on 
horses  very  different  from  those  they  would  have 
been  riding  around  Ruardean.  But  the  sorriness 
of  their  nags  made  no  difference  as  regarded  the 
looks  of  the  ladies.  Dignity  as  theirs  was  not 
dependent  on  extraneous  trifles,  and  for  their 
beauty  the  very  contrast,  with  the  excitement  of 
the  situation,  but  rendered  it  the  more  piquant 
and    conspicuous. 

The  cheeks  of  both  flushed  burning  red  as  they 
came  opposite  the  group  of  officers.  No  wonder, 
with  so  many  eyes  bent  in  bold  gaze  upon  them. 
They  heard  words,  too,  offensive  to  female  ears. 

**  It's  a  pity,  Vag,"  said  Sabrina,  in  an  under- 
tone, "we  didn't  think  of  putting  on  our  masks." 

"  Oh !  I  don't  care,"  rejoined  the  younger  sister, 
with  a  jaunty  toss  of  the  head.  "They  may  look 
their  owlish  eyes  out — it  matters  not  to  me." 

Just  then  her  own  eyes  encountered  another 
pair,  which  brought  a  change  over  her  countenance 
— Reginald  Trevor's.  He  was  gazing  at  her  with 
an  intensity  of  expression  that  ill  bore  out  the  in- 
difference he  pretended  when  parting  with  her  at 
the  Lalandes'  ball.  A  frown  it  was  now,  equally 
affected,  as  she  knew.  And  just  because  of  know- 
ing this  she  did  not  return  it ;  instead,  gave  him  a 
look  half-kind,  half-pitying.  If  a  little  coquettish, 
she  was  not  cruel  ;  and  she  felt  repentful,  remember- 
ing how  on   that  night   she   had   misled  him. 

At  the  same  time  there  was  a  crossing  of  eyes 
between    her  sister    and   another    officer    close    by 

S 


iS^  NO  QUARTER  ! 

Sabrina  saw  the  man  who  had  so  impudently 
ogled  her  at  Hollymead,  knowing  him  to  be 
Colonel  Lunsford.  In  a  similar  manner  was  he 
acting  now,  only  to  get  from  her  a  glance  of  con- 
temptuous scorn,  which  would  have  rebuked  any 
other  than  a  brazen  Cavalier. 

He  did  quail  under  it  a  little,  feeling  in  his 
heart  that  if  he  ever  received  favour  from  that 
lady  it  would  have  to  be  a  forced  one. 

*'  Who  are  they  ? "  interrogated  the  Prince,  after 
they  had  passed,  still  following  them  with  his  eyes. 
"  You  appear  to  know  them^  Colonel  ?  *' 

It  was  Lunsford  to  whom  he  addressed  himself, 
observing  the  look  of  recognition  with  which  the 
latter  was  regarding   them. 

** Those  ladies?  Is  it  they  your  Royal  High- 
ness deigns  to  inquire  about?"  A^d  he  pointed 
to  the  party  which  had  so  interested   all. 

"  Va  /  Or  only  one  of  them,  if  you  like — she 
with  the  golden  locks.  I  care  not  to  know  the 
other." 

Reginald  Trevor  had  overheard  this  with  a 
singular  revulsion  of  feeling.  Bitter  as  it  was  to 
him  to  see  Vaga  Powell  depart,  it  would  now  have 
been  worse,  the  thought  of  her  remaining  in 
Bristol.  Angry  he  was  with  her,  but  not  so  spite- 
ful nor  wicked,  as  to  wish  her  a  fate  like  that. 
Well  knew  he  what  danger  there  was  to  any  woman 
whose  beauty  tempted  Rupert. 

Diametrically  opposite  were  the  feelings  of  Luns- 
ford as  he  listened  to  the  Prince's  declared  pre- 
ference. He  had  feared  it  was  for  the  elder  sister, 
which  would  spoil  his  own  chances  should  such 
ever  come.     Relieved,  he  made  answer, — 

"  They  are  sisters,  your  Royal  Highness ;  the 
daughters  of  the  gentleman  you  see  along  with 
them." 


A   PRINCELY  ADMIRER.  259 

"  Egad  !  a  rich  father  in  the  way  of  womankind. 
I  wouldn't  mind  pilfering  a  part  of  his  wealth. 
That  bit  of  saucy  sweetness,  with  cheeks  all  roses, 
ought  to  be  pleasant  company.  I  haven't  seen 
anything  to  equal   her  in   all  your    England." 

**  Then,  your  Royal  Highness,  why  do  you  allow 
them  to  go  ? "  said  Lunsford,  speaking  in  an  under- 
tone. "  As  you  see,  they're  setting  off  for  Gloucester, 
and  it  may  be  some  time  before  an  opportu- 
nity  " 

"  Ah  !  true,"  interrupted  the   Prince,  reflectively. 

*'  If  your  Highness  deign  to  say  the  word,  they'll 
be  brought  back.     It's  not  yet  too  late." 

The  suggestion  was  selfish  as  it  was  base.  For 
he  who  made  it  but  wished  them  detained  on  his 
own  account. 

For  a  moment  Rupert  seemed  inclined  to  fall 
in  with  it  ;  and  might  have  done  so,  but  for  a 
reflection  that  got  the  better  of  him. 

"  Nein,  Colonel !  "  he  said  at  length.  "  We  dare 
not." 

"  What  dares  not  your  Royal   Highness  ? " 

"  That  you  propose.  You  forget  the  terms  of 
capitulation }  To  infringe  them  would  cause  scan- 
dal, and  of  that  we  Cavaliers  have  had  accusation 
already — as  much  as  we  can  well  carry.     Ha-ha-ha !  " 

The  laugh  told  how  little  he  cared  for  it,  and 
how  lightly  it  sat  upon  his  conscience. 

"  Your  Highness,  I'm  aware  of  all  that,"  per- 
sisted Lunsford.  **  But  these  are  excepted  people 
---that  is,  the  father." 

"How  so.?" 

"  Because  of  his  being  one  of  the  King's  worst 
and  bitterest  enemies.  But  that's  not  all.  He's 
been  a  recusant — is  still.  I  myself  attempted  to 
levy  on  him  for  a  loan  by  Privy  Seal — three 
thousand   pounds— the   King  required.     I  not  only 


26o  NO  quarter! 

failed  to  get  the  money,  but  came  near  being  set 
upon,  and  possibly  torn  to  pieces,  by  a  mob  ot 
Dean  Foresters  —  very  wolves  —  his  adherents  and 
retainers.  Surely  all  that  should  be  sufficient 
justification  for  the  detaining  of  him   and   his." 

Prompted  by  his  vile  passions  again,  the  Royal 
Sybarite  seemed  inclined  to  act  upon  the  diabolical 
counsel  But,  although  the  war's  history  already 
bristled  with  chronicles  of  crime,  nothing  quite  so 
openly  scandalous,  as  that  would  be,  had  yet  ap- 
peared upon  its  pages.  Many  such  there  were 
afterwards,  when  this  Prince  and  his  gallants  had 
more  corrupted  England's  people,  and  better  ac- 
customed them  to  look  lightly  on  the  breaches  of 
all  law  and  all  decency.   ' 

At  a  later  period  Rupert  would  not  have  re- 
garded them,  as  indeed  he  did  not  twelve  months 
after  in  this  same  city  of  Bristol.  Of  his  behaviour 
then  thus  wrote  one  of  his  attached  servitors  to 
the  Marquis  of  Ormonde, — 

"  Prince  Rupert  is  so  much  given  to  his  ease 
and  pleasure  that  every  one  is  disheartened  that 
sees  it.  The  city  of  Bristol  is  but  a  great  house 
of  bawdry." 

Things  were  not  so  on  that  day  succeeding  its 
surrender,  and  public  opinion  had  still  some  re- 
straint upon  him.  Enough  to  deter  him  from  the 
outrage  he  would  otherwise  willingly  have  per- 
petrated. 

"Never  mind,  Colonel,"  he  at  length  said 
resignedly.  "We  must  let  the  birds  go,  and  live 
in  hopes  of  seeing  them  again.  You  know  their 
roosting  place,  I   suppose  ?  " 

"  I  do,  your  Royal  Highness." 

"  So,  well !  When  weVe  settled  things  with  the 
sword,  which  we  soon  shall  now,  I  may  want  you 
to  pilot  me  thither.     Meanwhile,  laszt  es  gehen!' 


A  PRINCELY  ADMIRER.  26l 

At  which  the  dialogue  ended,  unheard  by  all 
save  Reginald  Trevor.  And  he  only  overheard 
snatches  of  it ;  still  enough  to  make  him  appre- 
hensive about  the  fate  of  Vaga  Powell.  If  he 
wanted  her  for  himself  it  was  not  in  the  way  Prince 
Rupert  wanted  her. 


CHAPTER  XL. 

THE  CADGERS  ON  THE  KYMIN. 

**  Laws,  Jack  !  fear  us  be  takin'  back  bad  news  to 
Sir  Richard.  An  worse  for  the  poor  young  lady 
at  Glo'ster.  Rob's  tolt  me  her  wor  well-nigh 
deestract  when  her  heerd  he  wor  took  pris'ner. 
What'U  it  be  as  her  get  to  hear  o'  his  bein'  bad 
wounded  too  ?     Her  knows  nothin'  o*  that.'* 

"  Maybe  'tant  so  much  o'  a  wownd  after  all, 
nothin*  for  he  to  go  dead  on.  Folks  allays 
zagerates  sich  things.  An'  if  he  live  it  through, 
like  'nough  'twon't  be  very  long  fores  they  git  un 
free  o'  his  'prisonment.  I  ha'  an  idea,  Winny  dear, 
the  letter  us  ha'  got  be  relatin'  to  that  same.  Else- 
wise  why  shid  the  Colonel  Kyrle,  who  wor  onct 
on  the  Parlamenteery  side,  an's  now  on  t'other 
why  shid  him  be  writin*  to  Sir  Richard,  or  Sir 
Richard  to  he  ?  Beside,  all  this  queery  business  us 
be  a  doin'.  It  seem  to  mean  somethin'  'bout  gittin' 
the  young  gen'lemen  out  o'  gaol ;  maybe  by 
changin'  he  for  another.     Don't  ee  think  so  ?  " 

"Like  it  do." 

She  knew  it  meant  that,  and  more.  For  Rob 
Wilde  had  given  her  a  hint  of  why  they  had  been 
sent  to  Monmouth  market — ostensibly  cadging  on 
their  own  account,  but  in  reality  as  messengers  in 
the  pay  and  employ  of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn. 
Though  Jack  was  personally  the  bearer  of  the 
secret    despatches,  Winny  was    the    one    entrusted 

•6a 


THE  CADGERS   ON   THE   KYMIN.  263 

vjith    the    diplomacy,    and     knew    more    than    she 
thought  necessary  to  confide  to  him. 

They  were  on  return  from  the  market — for  it 
was  afternoon — and  once  more  climbing  a  steep 
hill  ;  this  time  not  the  Cat's  but  the  Kytnin — the 
old  Roman  Road  (Camen)  ,  which,  crossing  the 
Wye  at  Monmouth  (Blestium),  led  up  to  the  Forest 
table-land  by  Staunton.  The  ascent  commences 
at  the  bridge,  winding  for  miles  through  romantic 
woods  and  scenery  unsurpassed  in  England.  The 
bridge  as  then  was  a  quaint,  massive  structure, 
having  a  towered  gate  on  its  tete  de  ponty  with 
portcullis,  draw-arch,  and  guard-house.  A  guard 
of  Royalist  soldiers  were  stationed  on  it ;  for  ever 
since  the  breaking  out  of  the  war  Monmouth  had 
been  kept  for  the  King.  But  the  cadgers  had 
found  no  difficulty  in  passing  this  guard,  either  at 
going  in,  or  coming  out.  It  was  market  day,  and 
Jinkum  was  laden  with  marketable  commodities — 
a  motley  collection  of  farmyard  fowls — hens,  ducks, 
and  geese — making  a  very  pandemonium  in  the 
panniers.  Had  the  soldiers  upon  the  bridge  but 
known  what  the  little  limping  man  carried  inside 
his  wooden  leg,  like  enough  they  would  have 
pitched  him  over  the  parapet.  It  was  after  getting 
clear  of  them,  and  well  up  hill,  that  the  brother 
and  sister  were  unburthening  themselves  to  one 
another,  as  above  described.  The  dialogue  had 
commenced  by  Jack  chuckling  over  the  way  they 
had  outwitted  the  bridge  guards,  and  referring  back 
to  how  they  had  done  the  same,  some  fifteen 
months  before,  with  the  "  Cavalieres,"  encountered 
on  the  Bristol  road  by  Berkeley.  He  was  in  high 
glee,  jesting  about  and  praising  his  artificial  leg — 
which  had  proved  worth  more  to  him  than  the 
teal  one — again  in  pleasant  anticipation  of  a  like 
remunerative   result.      The  sister,  however,  was   not 


264  NO  quarter! 

joyous  as  he ;  her  thoughts  just  then  dwelling  on 
that  poor  young  lady  described  by  Rob  Wilde  as 
having  b  en  "well-nigh  deestract."  That  was  it 
which  had  turned  their  conversation  into  the 
channel  it  had   taken. 

There  was  a  short  interregnum  of  silence  after 
Winny's  assenting  rejoinder.  Broken  by  Jack 
with  an  observation  bearing  on  the  same  topic  of 
discourse,  but  about  a  different  place  and  time. 

"Twor  a  pity  the  Captain  goed  back  to  Holly- 
mead  wi'  so  few  o'  his  sodgers  along.  I  cud  a  tolt 
he  that  wan't  safe,  seein'  the  Colonel  Lingen  ha' 
his  quarters  so  near  by,  in  Goodrich  Castle.  Him 
be  a  dangerous  neighbour,  an*  master  o'  all  round 
about  theer  now." 

"  Ye  be  right,  Jack  ;  'twor  a  pity,"  she  answered, 
echoing  his  first  reflection.  "  But  theer  w6r  a  good 
reason  for  't,  Rob's  gied  me.  Seems  Master  Powell 
had  somethin'  at  Hollymead — him  wanted  gettin' 
to  Glo'ster,  so's  to  be  safer  theer.  'Twor  a  thing 
o'  great  value  him  had  hid  away,  fores  leavin'  for 
Bristol  that  time,  an'  the  Captain  volunteered  like 
to  go  for  it.  How  could  him  know  o*  the  danger 
frae  Goodrich  ?  That  wor  brought  about  by 
treezun  ;  one  o'  his  men,  who  stepped  away  in  the 
night  an'  warned  the  Colonel  Lingen.  So  him  got 
tooked  by  surprise." 

*'  Well,  they  didn't  take  he,  'ithout  gettin*  a  taste 
of  his  steel ;  a  sharp  taste,  too  ;  beside  more  frae 
his  sodgers,  few  as  they  wor.  Jim  Davis,  who  wor 
up  to  the  house,  mornin'  after,  seed  blood  all  'bout 
the  place ;  more'n  could  a'  comed  o'  them  as  lay 
killed.  The  Cavalieres  had  carried  away  the 
wounded  a'  both  sides,  wi'  theer  own  dead  ;  as 
Jim  think  a  good  dozen." 

"  That  be  true  enough ;  more  nor  a  dozen,  I  ha* 
myself  heerd.     Bqt  what  do  it  signify  how  xr\s.ny  o' 


THE  CADGERS  ON   THE  KYMIN.  265 

Lingen's  wolves  be  gone  dead,  if  that  handsome 
young  gentlemen  ha'  to  die,  too  ?  Sure  as  we 
be  on  Kymin-hill,  'twill  break  Mistress  Vaga's 
heart/' 

"Stuff  an*  nonsense!  Hearts  beant  so  eezy 
broke." 

"  Ah !  that's  all  you  know  about  it." 

She  could  make  the  remark  with  confidence  in 
its  truth.  There  was  no  record  of  Jerky  ever 
having  had  sweetheart,  or  feeling  the  soft  sentiment 
of  love.  And  for  herself,  some  pangs  of  jealousy 
which  Rob  Wilde  had  occasioned  her,  though  un- 
consciously, made  her  a  believer  that  hearts  could 
be  broken.  For  this  great  Forest  woman  loved 
like  a  lioness,  and  could  be  jealous  as  a  tigress. 

"  Oh,  well !  "  rejoined  the  amiable  brother,  with- 
out taking  notice  of  the  slur  on  his  lack  of  his 
amatory  experience,  "it  mout  be  as  ye  say,  sistei 
Winny ;  suppsin'  the  young  gen'leman's  wounds 
to  prove  mortyal.  But  that  an't  like,  from  all 
us  ha'  heerd  the.  day.  So  let's  we  live  in  hope. 
An'  I  wudn't  wonner,"  he  added,  in  a  more  cheer- 
ful tone;  "wudn't  a  bit  wonner,  if,  inside  this 
timmer  leg  o'  mine,  theer  be  somethin'  to  tell  Sir 
Richard  the  Captain  an't  in  any  great  danger. 
Maybe  to  say  him  will  soon  be  out  o'  prison,  an' 
back  in  his  saddle,  to  cut  down  another  Cavaliere 
or  two." 

"  Hope  that's  the  news  us  be  takin'  to  High 
Meadow.  Whativer  'tis,  let  we  get  theer  quick's 
us  can.     Whack  on  the  creetur." 

The  final  admonition  referred  to  Jinkum  ;  and  his 
master,  in  obedience  to  it,  gave  out  the  ciistomary 
"  yee-up !  "  accompanied  by  the  less  usual  applica- 
tion of  cudgel. 

A  good  deal  of  this  last  the  donkey  now  needed. 
The  morning  had  been  hot,  with  the  panniers  full 


266  NO  quarter! 

and  heavy,  toward  the  market.  Now,  ofl  rcttiwi, 
it  was  still  sultry,  and  the  wicker  weighted  as  ever, 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn  was  not  the  strategist  to  let 
his  scheme  have  a  chance  of  miscarrying ;  and 
Jinkum  was  bearing  back  into  the  Forest  country 
a  large  consignment  of  grocery  goods  ;  for  which  the 
consignee  would  care  little,  save  as  to  the  time  of 
delivery.  But  about  this  he  would  be  particular 
to  an  instant,  as  the  cadgers  knew  ;  and  so,  on  up 
the  Kymin,  Jinkum  caught  stick,  in  showers  thick 
as  had  ever  rained  upon  his  hips,  even  when 
climbing  the  sharper  and  more  familiar  pitches  of 
Cat^s  Hill. 


CHAPTER   XLI. 


On  the  highest  point  of  the  Forest  of  Dean  district 
— ^just  one  thousand  feet  above  ocean's  level — is  a 
singular  mass  of  rock  known  as  the  "Buckstone." 
An  inverted  pyramid,  with  base  some  fifteen  feet 
in  diameter,  poised  upon  its  apex,  which  rests  on 
another  rock  mass  of  quadrangular  shape  as  upon 
a  plinth.  Into  this  the  down-turned  apex  seems 
indented  so  far  as  to  make  the  apparent  surface  of 
contact  but  a  few  square  feet.  In  reality  the  two 
masses  are  detached,  the  superimposed  one  so 
loose  as  to  have  obtained  the  character  of  a  "  rock- 
ing stone."  Many  the  attempt  to  rock  it ;  many 
the  party  of  tourists  who  had  laid  shoulders  against 
it  to  stir  it  from  its  equilibrium ;  not  a  few  taking 
departure  from  the  place  fully  convinced  they  had 
felt,  or  seen  it,  move. 

And  many  the  legend  belonging  thereto,  Druidical 
and  demoniac  ;  some  assigning  it  an  artificial,  others 
a  supernatural,  origin. 

Alas  for  these  romantic  conjectures !  the  geo- 
logist gives  them  neither  credence  nor  mercy. 
Letting  the  light  of  science  upon  the  Buckstone, 
he  shows  how  it  comes  to  be  there  ;  by  the  most 
natural  of  causes — simply  through  the  disinte- 
gration of  a  soft  band  of  the  old  red  sandstone 
interposed  between  strata  of  its  harder  conglomerate. 

From     beside    this     curious    eccentricity    of    the 
067 


5(58  NO  quarter! 

weather-wearing  forces  is  obtained  one  of  the  finest 
views  of  all  England,  or  rather  a  series  of  them, 
forming  a  circular  panorama.  Turn  what  way  one 
will  the  eye  encounters  landscape  as  lovely  as  it 
is  varied.  To  the  east,  south-east,  and  south  can 
be  seen  the  far-spreading  champaign  country  of 
Gloucester,  Somerset,  and  Devon,  here  and  there 
diversified  by  bold,  isolated  prominences,  as  the 
Cotswolds  and  Mendips,  with  a  noble  stream,  the 
Severn,  winding  snake-like  along,  and  gradually 
growing  wider,  till  in  funnel-shape  it  espouses  the 
sea,  taking  to  itself  the  title  of  Channel. 

From  the  shores  of  this,  stretching  away  north- 
ward, but  west  from  the  Buckstone,  is  a  country 
altogether  different.  No  plains  in  that  direction 
worth  the  name,  but  hills  and  undulating  ridges, 
rolling  up  higher  and  higher  as  they  recede,  at 
length  ending  in  a  mountain  background,  blue 
black,  with  a  horizontal  line  which  shows  many  d^ 
curious  col  and  summit. 

The  greater  portion  of  this  view  is  occupied  by 
the  shire  of  Monmouth,  its  foreground  being  th'* 
valley  of  the  Wye,  where  this  river,  after  running 
the  gauntlet  between  English  Bicknor  and  the 
Dowards,  comes  out  surging  and  foam-crested 
as  a  victorious  warrior  with  his  plumes  still  unshorn 
And  as  he  in  peaceful  times  might  lay  them  aside* 
so  the  fretted  and  writhing  river,  clot  after  clot, 
casts  off  its  snowlike  froth,  and,  seemingly  appeased, 
flows  in  tranquil  current  through  the  narrow  strip 
of  meadow  land  on  which  stands  the  miniature  city 
of  Monmouth. 

Although  below  the  Buckstone,  at  least  nine 
hundred  of  the  thousand  feet  by  which  this  sur- 
mounts the  sea's  level,  the  point  blank  distance 
between  them  is  inside  the  range  of  modern  great 
guns.     And    so  well  within    that   of  a  field-glass 


BY  THE  "  BUCKSTONEi**  269 

that  from  the  overhanging  Forest  heights  men 
could  be  distinguished  in  the  streets  of  the  town, 
or  moving  along  the  roads  that  lead  out  of  it. 

As  already  said,  one  of  these  is  the  Kymin,  then 
the  main  route  of  travel  to  Gloucester,  by  Coleford 
and  Mitcheldean.  Near  where  it  attains  the  Forest 
elevation,  at  the  picturesque  village  of  Staunton, 
a  lane  branches  off  leading  to  the  higher  point  on 
which  stands  the  Buckstone ;  a  path  running  through 
woods,  only  trodden  by  the  tourist  and  others 
curious  to  examine  the  great  balanced  boulder. 

On  that  same  afternoon  and  hour  when  the 
cadgers  were  toiling  up  the  Kymin-hill,  two  person- 
ages of  very  different  appearance  and  character 
— both  men — might* have  been  seen  entering  into 
the  narrower  trackway,  and  continuing  on  up 
towards  the  rock-crowned  summit 

On  reaching  it  one  of  them  drew  out  a  telescope, 
and  commenced  adjusting  the  lens  to  his  sight. 
If  his  object  was  but  to  view  the  scenery  there 
was  no  need  for  using  glass.  Enough  could  be 
taken  in  by  the  naked  eye  to  satisfy  the  most 
ardent  lover  of  landscape,  though  in  September 
the  woods  still  wore  their  summer  livery  ;  for  on 
Wye  side  it  is  late  ere  the  foliage  loses  its  greenery, 
and  quite  winter  before  it  falls  from  the  trees. 
Here  and  there  only  a  dash  of  yellow,  or  a  mottling 
of  maroon  red,  foreshadowed  the  coming  change  ; 
but  no  russet-grey  as  yet.  The  afternoon  was  one 
of  the  loveliest ;  not  a  cloud  in  the  azure  sky  save 
some  low-lying  fleecy  cumuli,  snow-white  but  rose- 
tinted,  towards  which  the  sun  seemed  hastening 
as  to  a  couch  of  repose.  A  cool  breeze  had  suc- 
ceeded the  sultriness  of  the  mid-day  hours ;  and, 
aroused  from  its  torpor,  all  animated  nature  was 
once  more  active  and  joyous.  Out  of  the  depths 
of   the    High    Meadow  woods    came   the   whistling 


270  NO  quarter! 

call  of  stag  and  the  bleat  of  roebuck ;  from  the 
pastures  around  Staunton  the  lowing  of  kine, 
mingled  with  the  neighing  of  a  mother  mare,  in 
response  to  the  *'whigher"  of  unweaned  foal; 
while  in  Forest  glade  might  now  and  then  be 
heard  shrill  cries  of  distress,  where  fierce  polecat 
or  marten  had  sprung  upon  the  shoulders  of  some 
hapless  hare,  there  to  clutch  and  cling  till  the 
victim  dropped  dying  on  the  grass. 

All  the  birds  were  abroad,  some  upon  the  trees, 
singing  their  evensong,  or  making  their  evening 
meal  ;  others  soaring  above,  wdth  design  to  make 
a  meal  of  them.  Of  these  a  host ;  for  nowhere 
are  the  predatory  species  more  numerously  re- 
presented than  along  the  low^er  Wye.  More 
numerous  then  than  now ;  though  still  may  be 
seen  there  the  fish-eating  osprey  ;  oftener  the  kite, 
with  tail  forked  as  that  of  salmon  ;  not  unfrequently 
the  peregrine  falcon  in  flight  swift  as  an  arrow, 
and  squeal  loud  as  the  neigh  of  a  colt ;  and  at  all 
times  the  graceful  kestrel,  sweeping  the  air  with 
active  stroke  of  wing,  or  poised  on  quivering 
pinions,  as  upon  a  perch. 

In  those  days,  eagles  were  common  enough  on 
the  Wye ;  and  just  as  the  two  men  had  taken 
stand  by  the  Buckstone,  a  brace  of  these  grand 
birds  came  over  ;  the  owners  of  an  eyrie  in  the 
Coldwell  rocks,  or  the  Windcliff.  After  a  few 
majestic  gyrations  around  the  head  of  Staunton- 
hill,  wath  a  scream,  they  darted  across  the  river  to 
Great  Doward,  and  thence  on  to  quarter  Coppet 
Wood 

But  he  using  the  telescope,  as  his  companion, 
took  no  more  notice  of  them  than  if  they  had 
been  but  skylarks.  Nor  looked  they  on  that  lovely 
landscape  with  any, eye  to  its  beauties.  They  were 
neither  tourists   nor    naturalists,  but   spldiefs  j    ^nd 


BY  THE  "  BUCKSTONE.**  ^j^t 

just  then,  man,  with  his  ways  alone,  had  interest 
for  them. 

Both  were  in  uniform  ;  the  elder — though  there 
was  no  great  difference  in  their  ages — wearing 
that  of  a  Colonel  in  the  Parliamentary  army ;  a 
rank  which,  in  these  modern  days,  when  military 
titles  are  so  lavishly  bestowed,  would  seem  as 
nothing.  But  in  those  times  of  a  truer  Conser- 
|vatism,  even  though  the  social  fabric  was  being 
shaken  to  its  foundation,  a  colonel  held  as  high 
command  as  a  major-general  now.  So  with  him 
who  had  the  telescope  to  his  eye ;  for  it  was  Colonel 
Edward  Massey,  the  military  Governor  of  Glou- 
cester. 

And  the  other  was  a  colonel,  too,  on  the  Parlia- 
mentary side ;  though  in  uniform  of  a  somewhat 
irregular  kind.  Dressed  as  a  Cavalier,  but  with 
certain  insignia,  telling  of  hostility  to  the  Cavalier's 
creed ;  one  especially  proclaiming  it,  with  bold 
openness — this,  a  bit  of  gold  embroidery  on  the 
velvet  band  of  his  hat,  representing  a  crown,  thrust 
through  and  through  by  a  rapier.  Fair  fingers 
had  done  that  deft  needlework,  those  of  Sabrina 
Powell.  For  he  who  displayed  the  defiant  symbol 
was  Sir  Richard  Walwyn. 

Why  the  two  colonels  were  together,  and  there, 
needs  explanation.  Many  a  stirring  event  had 
transpired,  many  a  bloody  battle  been  fought,  since 
the  surrender  of  Bristol  to  Rupert ;  and  among 
them  that  most  disastrous  to  him  as  to  the  King's 
cause — Marston  Moor.  It  had  changed  every- 
thing ;  as  elsewhere,  freeing  the  Forest  of  Dean 
from  the  Royalist  marauders,  who  had  been  so 
long  its  masters.  Massey  had  himself  dealt  them 
a  deadly  blow  at  Beachley;  routing  Sir  John 
Wintour's  force,  caught  there  in  the  act  of  fortify* 
ing  the  passage  acrass  the  Severn. 


i72  NO  QUARTER  I 

That,  occurred  but  three  days  before,  and  thd 
active  Governor  of  Gloucester  having  hastened  on 
to  Staunton,  was  now  contemplating  a  descent 
upon  Monmouth. 

There  was  one  who  had  pressed  him  to  this 
haste,  having  also  counselled  him  to  attempt  the 
capture  of  the  town.  This,  the  man  by  his  side. 
But  a  woman,  too,  had  used  influence  to  the  same 
end.  Before  sallying  forth  from  Gloucester,  for 
Beachley,  a  girl — a  beautiful  girl — had  all  but 
knelt  at  his  feet,  entreating  him  to  take  Monmouth. 
Nor  did  she  make  any  secret  of  why.  she  wished 
this.  For  it  was  Vaga  Powell,  believing  that  in 
Monmouth  Castle  there  was  a  man  confined,  whose 
freedom  was  dear  to  her  as  her  own.  But  she 
feared  also  for  his  life,  for  it  had  come  to  that 
now.  The  /ex  talionis  was  in  full,  fierce  activity, 
and  prisoners  of  war  might  be  butchered  in  cold 
blood,  or  sent  abroad,  and  sold  into  slavery — as 
many  were ! 

Luckily  for  the  young  lady,  her  intercession 
with  M^ssey  was  made  at  the  right  time,  he 
himself  eagerly  wishing  the  very  thing  she  wanted. 
Ever  since  becoming  Governor  of  Gloucester,  Mon- 
mouth had  been  a  sharp  thorn  in  his  side,  com- 
pared with  which  Lydney  was  but  a  thistle.  And 
now,  having  laid  the  latter  low — as  it  were,  plucked 
it  up  by  the  roots — he  meant  dealing  in  like 
manner  with  the  former.  To  capture  the  saucy 
little  city  of  the  Wye  would  be  a  coiipy  worth  a 
whole  year's  campaigning.  With  it  under  his 
control,  soon  would  cease  to  be  heard  that  cry 
hitherto  resonant  throughout  South  Wales,  **  For 
the  King!"  To  still  the  hated  shibboleth — alike 
hated  by  both — he  and  Sir  Richard  Walwyn  were 
now  by  the  Buckstone,  with  eyes  bent  upon  Mon- 
mouth. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

A    RECONNAISSANCE. 

Instead  of  viewing  the  rural  scenery,  the  two 
colonels  had  come  there  to  make  a  reconnaissance. 
The  town  itself,  its  fortified  enceinte^  the  gates 
piercing  it,  and  the  roads  around,  were  the  objects 
to  which  their  glances  were  given.  And,  for  a 
time,  all  their  attention  was  engrossed  by  them, 
neither  speaking  a  word. 

At  length  Massey,  having  made  survey  of  them 
through  the  telescope,  handed  it  to  the  knight, 
saying,— 

"So  you  think  there's  a  chance  of  our  taking 
the  place  t " 

Sir  Richard  but  ran  the  glass  around  hastily. 
He  had  been  up  there  before,  and  more  carefully 
reconnoitred,  their  chief  object  being  to  ascertain 
the  strength  of  the  garrison. 

"  Yes,  your  Excellency,"  he  rejoined,  "  a  chance, 
and  something  more,  if  Kyrle  prove  true ;  or 
rather  should  I  say,  traitor.  And,"  he  added,  with 
a  significant  smile,  "  I  think  we  can  trust  him  to 
do  that." 

"  As  it  wouldn't  be  the  first  time  for  him,  no 
doubt  we  can.  He  has  twice  turned  coat  already. 
And's  no  doubt  itching  to  give  it  an othep-  shift, 
if  he  can  but  see  the  way  without  getting  it  torn 
from  his  back.  Marston  Moor  has  had  its  effect 
on  him,  too,  I  suppose." 

**  1%  has,  and  our  affair  at  Beachley  wiU 
m  T 


274  NO  quarter! 

strengthen  it;.  He*ll  want  to  be  back  on  what 
he  believes  the  winning  side  now  more  than  ever. 
His  communication  to  me,  though  carefully  worded, 
means  that,  if  anything.  But  we'll  be  better  able 
to  judge  when  our  despatch-bearers  report  them- 
selves at  High  Meadow  House.  I  think  we  may 
look  for  a  letter  from  him." 

It  was  at  High  Meadow  House  their  men  were 
encamped ;  the  main  body  under  Massey  having 
just  arrived,  while  Sir  Richard,  with  his  troopers 
in  advance,  had  been  there  overnight.  And  that 
same  morning  the  cadgers,  hastily  summoned  from 
their  home  at  Ruardean,  had  been  despatched  to 
Monmouth  market :  Jack,  or  rather  the  sister,  with 
secret  instructions,  and  Jinkum  with  full  panniers. 

"  They  ought  to  be  back  soon  now,'*  added 
Sir  Richard,  again  raising  the  glass  to  his  eye,  and 
turning  it  on  the  town,  his  object  to  see  if  the 
market  people  had  all  gone  away. 

When  he  last  looked,  they  were  streaming  out 
through  the  gates,  the  commercial  business  of  the 
market  being  over  long  ago.  And  now  there 
were  only  some  stragglers  on  the  o-ut-going  roads, 
men  who  had  lingered  by  the  ale-houses  in  gossip, 
or  standing  treat  to  the  ever-thirsty  soldiery. 

Just  then  there  came  within  his  field  of  view  a 
^roup  composed  of  elements  altogether  different 
from  the  home-returning  rustics. 

"  What  do  you  see  ? "  asked  Massey,  observing 
the  telescope  steadied,  and  the  knight  looking 
through  it  with  fixed,  earnest  gaze. 

"  A  party  of  horse,  carrying  the  lance — most  of 
them." 

"  Where  P** 

"Just  coming  out  of  the  northern  gate." 

**  A  patrol,  perhaps  ?  " 

"No;  something  more.     There  a,re  too  many  of 


A  R£:C0NNA1SSANCE.  1^75 

them  for   that.     Over   a   hundred   have   passed   out 
already.     And yes  ;  prisoners  with  them  !  " 

"  Let  me  have  a  look,"  said  the  Governor,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  for  the  telescope,  which,  of 
course,  the  other  surrendered  to  him.  Reluctantly 
though,  as  Sir  Richard  felt  more  than  a  common 
interest  in  the  prisoners  so  escorted. 

"You're  right,"  said  Massey,  soon  as  sighting  them 
"  Prisoners  they  have.  But  whither  can  they  bf 
taking  them  }     That's  the  road  to  Ross." 

"  To  Hereford  also,  your  Excellency.  The  routes 
are  the  same  as  far  as  Whitchurch." 

"Ah,  true.  Still  it's  odd  their  starting  out  at 
such  an  hour  !  And  why  carrying  prisoners  away 
to  Hereford .?  Surely  Monmouth  Castle  afford? 
gaol  room  enough.  I  hope  it's  not  so  full.  If  so^ 
all  the  more  reason  for  our  doing  what  we  can 
to  empty  it." 

"  I  don't  think  they're  for  Hereford,  either.  If 
I'm  not  mistaken,  I  saw  something  which  tells  of 
a  different  destination.  If  your  Excellency  will 
allow  me  another  look  through  the  telescope,  per- 
haps  " 

*'  Oh,  by  all  means,  take  it ! "  said  the  Governor, 
interrupting,   and  again   handing  over  the  glass. 

"Yes!  just  as  I  supposed  they  were — Harry 
Lingen's  Horse!"  exclaimed  Sir  Richard,  after 
viewing  them  for  a  second  or  two.  "And  those 
poor  fellows,  their  prisoners,  likely  enough  are  my 
own  men — one  of  them,  though  I  can't  identify 
him,  my  unfortunate  troop-captain,  young  Trevor. 
They're  en  route  neither  for  Ross  nor  Hereford,  but 
Goodrich  Castle,  where  Lingen  has  his  head- 
quarters. It's  but  a  short  six  miles,  which  may 
account  for  their  setting  out  so  late." 

"  But  Trevor's  party  was  taken  at  a  place  near 
Ruardean — Hollymead  House,  if  I  recollect  aright." 


'^^6  NO  quarter! 

"  True ;  the  house  of  Master  Ambrose  Powell 
It  was  there  Lingen  surprised  them,  through  a 
scoundrel  who  turned  traitor." 

"Then  why  were  they  brought  to  Monmouth  at 
all  ?     Ruardean's  but  a  step  from  Goodrich." 

"Just  so,  your  Excellency,  I  was  puzzled  about 
that  myself  up  till  this  morning.  Now  I  know 
why,  having  got  the  information  from  our  cadger 
friends.  It  appears  that  when  Lingen  made  his 
swoop  on  Hollymead  he  was  on  the  way  to  join 
Wintour  at  Beachley,  so  kept  straight  on  through 
Monmouth,  where  he  dropped  his  impedimenta  of 
prisoners.  On  return  he's  now  picked  them  up 
again,  and's  taking  them  on  to  his  own  strong- 
hold." 

"  That's  it,  no  doubt,"  assented  Massey.  "  But," 
he  added,  with  a  smile  of  triumphant  satisfaction, 
"  whoever  those  captives  be,  pretty  sure  none  of 
them  have  been  brought  up  from  Beachley.  Nor  is 
their  escort  as  large  as  it  might  have  been  had 
Lingen  left  Wintour  to  himself  We  gave  their 
ranks  a  good  weeding  there — all  round." 

"Yes,  indeed,"  rejoined  the  knight,  rather  ab- 
sently, and  with  the  telescope  still  at  his  eye.  He 
was  endeavouring  to  make  good  the  identity  of  the 
captive  party,  and  assure  himself  whether  it  was 
really  what  he  had  conjectured  it  to  be. 

But  he  could  have  little  doubt,  as  he  had  none 
about  the  soldiers  forming  their  escort — Lingen's 
Horse  to  a  certainty — a  partisan  troop,  variously 
armed,  but  most  carrying  the  lance.  And  while 
he  still  continued  gazing  at  them,  they  commenced 
the  ascent  of  the  Ley's  pitchy  which  passes  over  the 
col  between  Little  Doward  and  the  Table  Mount, 
the  road  running  through  woods  all  the  way. 
Under  these  they  were  soon  lost  to  his  sight,  and 
as  the  last  lance  with  its  pennon  disappeared  below 


A  RECONNAISSANCE.  277 

the  tops  of  the  trees,  he  lowered  his  telescope  with 
a  sigh,  saying, — 

*'  What  a  pity  the  river's  between,  with  a  flood 
on !  But  for  that  we  might  have  crossed  at 
Huntsholme,  and  caught  up  with  them  ere  they 
could " 

He  broke  off  abruptly  at  sound  of  footsteps : 
the  tread  of  heavy  boots,  with  the  chink  of  spurs, 
and  the  louder  clank  of  a  steel  scabbard  striking 
against  them. 

He  making  all  these  formidable  noises  was 
Sergeant  Rob  Wilde,  seen  ascending  the  steep  pitch, 
and  evidently  on  some  errand  that  called  for 
haste. 

Sir  Richard,  advancing  to  meet  him,  saw  that  he 
had  something  in  his  hand,  with  a  good  guess  as 
to  what  it   was. 

"Jerky  Jack  ha'  brought  this,  colonel,"  said  the 
sergeant,  salutmg,  as  he  held  out  a  slip  of  paper, 
folded  and  sealed.  "  He  ha'  just  got  up  fra 
Monnerth  ;  an',  accordin'  to  your  command,  I  took 
it  out  o'  his  leg." 

"You  did  quite  right,  sergeant  Was  there 
nothing  more  in  the  leg?" 

**  Only  some  silver,  colonel ;  the  diff'rence  o' 
the  money  he  got  for  the  fowls  an'  what  he  gied 
for  the  grocer  goods.  He  stowed  it  theer,  afeerd 
o'  the  King's  sodgers  strippin'  him  o't." 

"  A  wise  precaution  on  Jerky's  part,"  observed  the 
knight,  with  a  smile.      "  And  called  for,  no  doubt." 

Then,  returning  to  where  Massey  stood  awaiting 
him,  he  said, — 

"  We  shall  know  now,  your  Excellency,  what  Kyrle 
means  doing.  This  is  from  him — I  recognise  the 
script." 

The  superscription  on  the  letter  was  only  the 
initials   "  R.  W./'  Sir   Richard's  own,  who  otherwJ^ie 


278  NO  QUARTER  I 

knew  It  was  for  himself,  and  while  speaking  had 
broken   open  the   seal. 

Unfolding  the  sheet,  he  saw  what  surprised  and 
at  first  fretted  him — that  device  borne  on  his  hat 
and  the  standard  of  his  troop — the  sword-pierced 
crown.  It  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  page,  in 
rough  pen-and-ink  sketch,  and  might  be  meant 
ironically.  But  no ;  the  writing  underneath  gave 
the  explanation  : — 

"By  the  symbol  above  R.  W.  will  understand 
that  K.  abjures  the  hatred  thin^  called  *  Kingship  * 
henceforth  and  for  ever.  After  this  night  he  will 
never  draw  sword  in  such  a  cause,  and  this  night 
only  to  give  it  a  back-handed  blow.  R.  W.'s  pro- 
posal accepted.  Plan  of  action  thus: — M.  at  once 
to  retire  troops  from  High  Meadow,  news  of  which 
a  messenger  already  warned  will  bring  hither  post 
haste.  But  good  reason  must  be  given  for  retiring, 
else  K.  might  have  difficulty  getting  leave  to  go  in 
pursuit.  Withdrawal  appearing  compulsory,  there 
will  be  none.  H.,  who  commands  here,  is  a  con- 
ceited ass,  ambitious  to  cut  a  figure,  and  will  rush 
into  the  trap  as  a  rat  after  cheese.  R.  W.  may 
show  this  to  M.,  and  himself  feel  assured  that  if 
the  sword  of  his  old  comrade-in-arms  be  again  em- 
ployed in  the  service  of  the  P.,  it  will  cut  keen 
enough  to  make  up  for  past  deficiencies,  which  K. 
hopes  and  trusts  will  be  forgiven  and  forgotten." 

No  name  was  appended  to  the  singular  epistle 
nor  signature  of  any  kind.  It  needed  none.  Sir 
Richard  Walwyn  knew  the  writer  to  be  Robert 
Kyrle,  a  lieutenant-colonel  in  the  Royalist  army, 
who  at  the  beginning  of  the  war  had  drawn  sword 
for  the  Parliament.  In  days  gone  by  they  had 
fought  side  by  side  in  a  foreign  land, — more  re- 
cently in  their  own, —  and  Kyrle  could  well  call  Sir 
Richard    an    "old    coinrade-in-arms."      Ngvy    they 


A   RECONNAISSANCE.  2^9 

were  in  opposite  camps  ;  but  if  that  letter  could  be 
relied  upon  as  a  truthful  exponent  of  the  writer's 
sentiments,  they  were  likely  soon  to  be  in  the  same 
again.  Already  there  had  been  a  passage  of  notes 
between  them,  and  the  knight  had  now  a  full  com- 
prehension of  what  his  anonymous  correspondent 
meant,  knew  to  whom  the  various  initials  referred 
— in  short,  understood  everything  purposed  and 
proposed. 

"  What's  your  opinion  of  it,  Colonel  Walwyn }  ** 
asked  the  Governor,  after  hearing  the  letter  read, 
and  receiving  some  necessary  explanations.  "  Do 
you  think  we  can  trust  him  ? " 

"  I  do,  your  Excellency  ;  feel  sure  of  it  now.  I 
know  Kyrle  better  than  most  men,  and  something 
of  his  motives  for  going  over  to  the  other  side. 
Nothing  base  or  cowardly  in  th#m  ;  instead,  rather 
honourable  than  otherwise.  For,  in  truth,  it  was 
out  of  affection  for  his  old  father,  whose  pro- 
perty was  threatened  with  wholesale  confiscation. 
Walford,  up  the  river,  this  side  Ross,  is  their  home. 
It  is  within  cannon  range  of  Goodrich  Castle,  right 
under,  and  Lingen  would  have  been  sure  to  make 
a  ruin  of  it  had  Kyrle  not  gone  over  to  the  King. 
Now  that  the  chances  of  war  are  with  us  again, 
and  he  thinks  that  danger  past,  his  heart  bounds 
back  to  what  it  once  warmly  beat  for.  I  know  it  did, 
AS  he  has  oft  told  m.e,  in  tent  and  by  camp  fire." 

"To  what?"  asked  Massey,  himself  a  veteran  of 
the  Low  Country  campaigns,  and  feeling  interest  in 
souvenirs  of  sentiment. 

**  This ! "  answered  the  knight,  pointing  to  the 
device  inside  the  letter,  still  in  his  hand.  **  I  be- 
lieve he  will  be  true  to  it  now,  as  he  promises ; 
and  if  we  get  nothing  more  by  it  than  his  sword, 
it's  one  worth  gaining,  your  Excellency.  Than 
Kyrle  I  don't  know  braver  or  better  soldier." 


28o  NO  quarter! 

"Well,  Colonel,  since  you  seem  so  disposed  td 
this  thing,  and  confident  of  success,  Vm  willing  we 
should  make  the  attempt.  At  the  worst  we  can 
but  fail,  though,  indeed,  failure  may  cost  us  a 
good  many  of  our  best  men.  Best  they  must  be 
to  form  the  forlorn  hope." 

"  If  your  Excellency  permit,  I  and  my  Foresters 
will  form  that.  With  my  confidence  in  them,  and 
faith  in  Kyrle,  I  have  no  fear  of  failure — if  the 
details  of  our  scheme  be  carried  out  as  designed." 

"  They  shall  be.  Sir  Richard,  so  far  as  I  can 
effect  it.  You  may  rely  upon ,  me  for  that.  Nay> 
I  leave  the  ordering  and  arrangement  of  every- 
thing to  yourself." 

"Thanks,  your  Excellency.  But  the  sooner  we 
set  about  it  the  better.  Kyrle,  as  you  see,  counsels 
the  withdrawal  at  once." 

"  But  what  about  the  reasons  for  doing  so  ? 
Without  that,  he  tells  us " 

"  IVe  thought  of  that,  too,"  interrupted  Sir 
Richard,  now  all  haste.  "  It's  part  of  my  plan 
already  arranged.  But  it  will  take  a  little  time 
to  procure  this  reason,  so  that  it  may  appear  plau- 
sible— the  time  it  will  take  a  man,  mounted  on  a 
good  horse,  to  gallop  to  Coleford  and  back." 

"  I  don't  quite  comprehend  you,  Colonel,  For 
what  purpose  this  galloping  to  Coleford?" 

"To  get  news  from  Gloucester — telling  us  it  is 
threatened  by  Rupert." 

The  Governor  gave  a  start,  as  if  actually  being 
told  it  was  so.  Then,  recovering  himself,  as  he 
saw  the  smile  on  Sir  Richard's  face,  at  the  same 
time  catching  the  purport  of  his  dubious  words, 
he  smiled,  too,  admiringly  upon  the  soldier  knight, 
as  he  rejoined, — 

"  An  admirable  idea !  It  will  do  1  But,  as  you 
say,   Colonel,  there    must    be  no  time  lost      The 


A  •RECONNAISSANCE.  26i 

ftiessenger  must  be  despatched  at  otice*  So  let  us 
back  to  High  Meadow  House*" 

Saying  which,  he  started  off  down  the  hill. 

Sir  Richard  was  about  to  follow  when  his  big 
sergeant,  who  had  been  all  the  while  standing 
near,  stepped  up  to  him,  and  saluting,  said, — 

"There  be  a  woman  as  wants  a  word  wi'  ye, 
Colonel." 

'•  A  woman  !     Who,  Rob  ?" 

"  Cadger  Jack*s  sister." 

«  Where  is  she  ?  " 

"A  little  ways  down  the  lane.  I  didn't  like 
bringin*  she  up,  fears  you  or  the  Governor  mightn't 
wish  bein'  intruded  on.  Besides,  her  business  be 
more  wi*  yerself,  Colonel." 

**  Well,  Wilde,"  half  jocularly  returned  the  knight, 
"your  discretion  seems  on  a  par  with  your  valour. 
But  let  us  down,  and  hear  what  the  cadgeress  has 
to  say.  If  it  be  a  question  of  squaring  the  market 
account,  you  can  take  that  upon  yourself.  I  give 
you  carte  blanche  to  settle  scores  ;  and  if  they've 
brought  back  groceries,  you  may  distribute  them 
among  the  men." 

"  It  bean't  nothin'  o'  that  Win  want  to  speak  ye 
about.?" 

"What  is  it,  then  ?    You  seem  to  know." 

"There  be  herself,  Colonel.  Her  can  tell  you 
better'n  me." 

He  pointed  ft)  the  Forest  Amazon,  who  but  a 
short  distance  below  stood  by  the  trunk  of  a  tree, 
from  behind  which  she  had  just  stepped,  Massey 
having  passed  without  seeing  her. 

"Well,  Mistress  Winifred,"  said  the  knight,  when 
near  enough  to  commence  conversation,  "  my  ser- 
geant tells  me  youVe  something  to  say." 

"  Only  a  word,  your  honour ;  an'  I  bes  most 
feered  to  speak  it,  since  it  ant  a  pleasant  one," 


2^2    •  NO  QUARTER  I 

"Out  with  it,  anyhow.'* 

"Him  be  wounded." 

"Who?" 

"  The  young  officer  as  wor  took  ^  ff ollymead — 
Captain  Trevor." 

'*  Ha  !     Wounded,  too !     Who  to  (d  you  that  ? " 

"  "J* wor  all  about  Monnerth  the  d^iy,  wheres  him  be 
in  prison.  I  tried  get  a  chance  to  speak  wi'  he,  but 
couldn*t,  bein'  watched  by  the  sodgeNS  roun*  the  Castle. 

"Did  you  hear  whether  his  wound  be  serious?" 

*'  No,  Sir  Richard ;  nothin*  mors*  than  that  it 
wor  from  a  gunshot,  an'  had  laid  he  up.  Hope 
it  won't  signify  no  great  deal ;  but  I  thought  it 
better  you  be  told  o't  fores  it  reach  the  young  lady 
at  Gloster — so's  yer  honour  might  break  it  to  her 
a  bit  easier." 

"  Very  thoughtful  of  you.  Mistress  Winifred,  and 
thanks  !     I'll  endeavour  to  do  that." 

He  passed  on  with  quickened  step  and  shadowed 
countenance.  Eustace  Trevor,  whom  he  had  grown 
to  regard  as  a  brother,  wounded  !  This  was  news 
to  him.  And  a  gunshot  wound  which  had  laid 
him  upT— that  looked  grave. 

AH  the  more  reason  for  taking  Monmouth,  and 
soon.  But  however  soon,  he  had  r^  presentiment, 
and  something  more,  it  would  be  too  late — so  far 
as  finding  Eustace  Trevor  there.  He  felt  almost 
sure  that,  whether  slightly  or  seveiNe'y  wounded,  his 
troop  captain  had  been  taken  on  tc  Goodrich. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

HIGH    MEADOW    HOUSE. 

High  Meadow  House,  where  Massey's  troops  were 
quartered,  was  but  a  step  from  the  Buckstone.  A 
first-class  mansion  it  was,  belonging  to  a  gentle- 
man, by  name  Benedict  Hall,  and  inhabited  by 
him  till  within  a  few  days  before.  A  large  land- 
owner, with  estates  both  in  the  shires  of  Gloucester 
and  Hereford,  he  commanded  some  influence 
throughout  the  Forest  country,  and  being  a  bigoted 
Papist,  he,  of  course,  went  for  the  King  and  the 
devil,  as  those  of  his  sort  have  ever  done  since 
Vaticanism  became  a  power  upon  the  earth. 

But  in  something  more  than  a  mere  sentimental 
way  had  the  master  of  High  Meadow  shown  his 
political  inclinings.  Second  only  to  those  of  the 
silly  old  Marquis  of  Worcester,  and  the  wicked 
Sir  John  Wintour,  were  his  services  to  the  Royal 
cause  in  that  quarter,  his  great  wealth  enabling 
him  to  pay  for  soldiers,  if  he  could  not  himself 
handle  them.  More  than  one  well-appointed  squad 
had  he  armed  and  equipped  at  his  own  expense, 
now  sending  subsidies  to  Wintour  at  Lydney,  and 
now  helping  Lo^d  Herbert  on  the  Monmouth  side. 
Moreover,  at  the  breaking  out  of  hostilities  he 
had  fortified  High  Meadow  House,  and  ever  since 
held  it  with  his  own  servants  and  hired  retainers. 

His  wife,  a  priest-ridden  woman,  had  been  prime 
inspirer  and    chief    instigator    to    all    this,    herself 

•83 


284  NO  QUARTER  I 

moving  about  among  the  men  employed  on  the 
defensive  works,  encouraging  them  with  speech, 
and  promises  of  reward  for  devotion  to  the  King*s 
cause. 

There  came  a  time,  however,  when  this  ultraloyal 
couple  began  to  get  tired  of  the  bauble  which 
was  costing  them  so  dearly.  For  over  two  years 
it  had  been  a  constant  drain  upon  their  resources: 
all  output  and  nothing  returned,  save  the  scantiest 
of  thanks — such  gratitude  as  might  be  expected 
from  princes,  above  all,  one  like  Rupert.  Had 
Benedict  Hall  better  held  by  his  Bible,  it  would 
have  warned  him  against  the  hollow  trust.  The 
battle  of  Marston  Moor  did  that  more  effectively 
than  the  sacred  Book ;  showed  him  the  fool's 
part  he  had  been  playing,  and  that  likely  a  day 
was  on  the  dawn  when  England's  people  would 
no  longer  be  the  consenting  slaves  of  Royal 
caprice.  So,  bitter  Papists  and  malignants  as 
were  he  and  his  wife,  their  worship  for  Pope  and 
King  did  not  blind  them  to  coming  events  ;  and 
they  had  now  turned  their  thoughts  to  the  rising 
sun.  When  the  news  came  from  the  North  of  the 
Royalist  rout,  and  was  followed  by  other  adverses 
to  the  King's  cause,  Benedict  Hall,  like  many 
others  of  higher  rank,  hastened  to  change  sides, 
or,  at  all  events,  save  himself  by  **  compounding." 
Which,  in  reality,  he  afterwards  did,  the  wife, 
clever  woman,  conducting  the  negotiations  with 
the  Parliamentary  Committee. 

Ere  this,  however,  on  hearing  of  Wintour's 
defeat  by  the  Wye's  mouth,  they  had  forsaken 
their  fortified  mansion  at  High  Meadow,  betaking 
themselves  to  Bristol ;  just  as  the  master  of 
Hollymead  with  his  family  had  fled  to  it  many 
months  before — both  seeking  it  as  a  city  of  refuge, 
but  from  enemies  the  very  opposite  I 


niGU   MEADOW   HOUSE.  2^5 

Even  tnore  abruptly,  and  in  greater  haste,  had 
the  Halls  abandoned  their  home,  leaving  behind, 
not  only  their  furniture,  but  some  of  their  most 
cherished  household  gods.  Provisions,  too,  in 
plenty — eatables  and  drinkables,  with  the  still  un- 
discharged staff  of  domestics.  Snug  quarters  for 
the  Parliamentarians,  fatigued  after  their  sharp  con- 
flict at  Beachley,  and  difficult  march  through  the 
Forest,  with  its  tortuous  routes  and  steep  pitches. 

As  already  said,  Colonel  Walwyn  and  his 
troopers  had  come  on  in  advance,  Massey's  men 
having  but  just  arrived,  when,  forsaking  saddle, 
he  and  Sir  Richard  started  off  to  the  Buckstone 
to  reconnoitre. 

Now  returned  from  it,  they  looked  upon  a 
spectacle  which,  though  of  a  striking  character,  was 
not  new  to  either  of  them.  Huge  fires  blazed 
up  everywhere,  with  great  joints  of  meat  spitted 
and  sputtering  over  them  ;  soldiers,  with  doublets 
off  and  shirt  sleeves  rolled  up  to  the  elbow,  knife 
in  hand,  still  engaged  in  cutting  up  the  beeves 
they  had  butchered  ;  hundreds  of  horses,  with 
saddles  off,  standing  haltered  along  the  walls, 
munching  corn,  which  the  master  of  High  Meadow 
House  had  been  hoarding  up  for  visitors  who 
would  have  been  more  welcome.  For,  up  to  a  late 
period,  he  had  been  expecting  Rupert  and  his 
Cavaliers  to  come  that  way. 

The  soldiers  were  in  high  glee,  congratulating 
one  another  on  the  comfortable  quarters  into 
which  they  had  dropped.  For  at  High  Meadow 
House  they  found  not  only  full  granaries,  but  a 
well-stocked  larder  and  cellar  containing  various 
potables.  A  portion  of  the  last  had  been  already 
dealt  out  to  them,  and  they  were  quaffing  and 
laughing,  one  giving  ironical  thanks  to  the  absent 
host     for     having     so     thoughtfully    provided    the 


286  No   QUARTER ! 

entertainment,  another   in    like   strain    drinking   hh 
health. 

The  arrival  of  the  Governor  on  the  ground 
caused  but  a  momentary  suspension  of  their 
boisterous  mirth.  Though  a  strict  disciplinarian 
in  a  military  sense,  Massey  was  aught  but  puri- 
tanical, and  rather  liked  seeing  his  soldiers  enjoy 
themselves  in  a  harmless  way.  Besides,  he  and 
Colonel  Walwyn — who,  hurrying  after,  had  over- 
taken him — at  once  went  inside  the  house,  where 
dinner,  already  prepared,  was  awaiting  them  and 
the  other  officers. 

Before  sitting  down  to  it,  the  Governor  called 
for  pen,  ink,  and  paper,  and  writing  to  Sir  Richard's 
dictation,  hastily  scratched  off  a  note,  which  he 
handed  to  the  latter,  as  they  exchanged  some 
words  in  undertone. 

The  knight,  on  taking  it,  passed  hurriedly  out 
to  see  close  to  the  door  a  horse  under  saddle 
and  bridled  with  a  trooper  standing  by  his  head. 
That  he  expected  this  w^as  evident  by  his  saying, — 

"You  can  mount  now.  Take  this  to  Coleford. 
Give  it  to  Major  Rowcroft, — into  his  own  hands, 
mind  you, — and  stay  there  till  he  sends  you  back. 
Don't  spare  your  horse :  ride  whip  and  spur  all 
the  way." 

The  soldier,  an  orderly,  simply  saluted  as  he 
took  the  folded  sheet,  then  slipping  it  under  his 
doublet,  sprang  to  the  saddle,  and  went  off  at  a 
gallop  through  the  gate. 

The  bivouackers,  inside  the  .courtyard  and  with- ' 
out,  having  commenced  their  Homeric  repast,  paid 
little  heed  to  an  incident  so  slight  and  of  such 
common  occurrence.  They  were  more  interested  in 
the  roast  beef,  with  which  the  pastures  around 
High  Meadow  House  had  provided  them,  and 
the   beer  drawn  from  its  subterraneous  depositories. 


HIGH   MEADOW   HOUSE.  287 

Good  store  of  sack  had  been  found  there  too, 
with  claret,  metheglin,  and  other  dainty  drinks. 
But  these  were  reserved  for  the  officers,  who,  in 
a  somewhat  similar  fashion,  were-  making  merry 
inside. 

For  the  better  part  of  an  hour  was  the  feasting 
kept  up,  amid  jest  and  laughter,  then,  interrupted 
by  the  hoof-stroke  of  a  horse  in  gallop,  afar  off 
in  the  Forest  when  first  heard,  but  at  each  re- 
petition louder  and  nearer,  till  at  length  the  sound 
abruptly  ceased. 

All  listening  knew  why.  The  fast-riding  horse- 
man, whoever  he  was,  had  pulled  up  by  the  out- 
picket,  whose  challenging  hail  could  be  faintly 
heard  through  the  trees. 

Time  enough  elapsed  for  the  necessary  parley 
and  permission  to  pass  on,  when  the  trampling 
recommenced,  and  soon  after  horse  and  rider  were 
in  sight,  still  at  a  gallop,  making  direct  for  the 
gate  of  the  fortified   mansion. 

Some  who  were  expecting  to  see  the  orderly 
that  had  late  ridden  off  saw  a  different  man, 
though  to  many  of  them  no  stranger.  A  dragoon 
orderly  too,  but  acting  with  the  detachment  at 
Coleford.  His  horse  was  in  a  lather  of  sweat, 
tossing  clots  of  froth  from  the  champed  bit  back 
upon  his  counter,  as  dashing  in  through  the  outer 
gate,  he  was  drawn  up  at  the  house  door. 

On  the  stoup  were  several  officers,  who  had  just 
stepped  out  after  finishing  dinner,  Massey  himself 
in  their  midst. 

"What  is  it.?"  he  demanded,  as  the  dragoon, 
springing  down  from  the  saddle,  advanced  towards 
him.  He  was  feigning  ignorance,  for  he  well  knew 
what  it  was. 

"Despatch  from  Major  Rowcroft,  your  Excel- 
lency,"   answered   the   orderly,  presenting  it,      "  H, 


288  NO  QUARTER  1 

commanded  it  brought  in  all  haste,  saying  'twas 
of  great  importance." 

**  Yes !  "  exclaimed  the  Governor,  after  tearing 
the  sheet  open,  and  giving  but  a  glance  to  the 
writing.  "Major  Rowcroft  is  right:  it  is  of  great 
importance.  Gentlemen,"  he  added,  turning  to  his 
officers,  and  speaking  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
all  over  the  place,  "this  is  a  serious  matter. 
Rowcroft  advises  me  of  news  just  reached  Cole- 
ford  that  the  Princes  Rupert  and  Maurice  have 
united  their  forces,  taken  Stroud,  Cirencester  too, 
and  are  supposed  to  be  en  route  for  Gloucester. 
Our  own  city  threatened,  we  mustn't  think  more 
of  Monmouth.  Glorious  old  Gloucester,  that  has 
so  long  defied  all  the  strength  of  Cavalierism, 
with  all  its  malevolent  spite  !  But  we  shan't  let 
it  fall ;  no !  Let  us  get  back  there  without  a 
moment's  delay.  So  each  of  you  to  your  respec- 
tive commands.  Have  your  men  in  marching 
order  within  twenty  minutes.  I  give  you  that, 
and  no  more." 

No  more  was  needed.  The  troops  under  Massey 
were  too  well  disciplined,  too  often  summoned 
into  action  with  like  suddenness,  to  go  bungling 
about  getting  ready  for  the  route. 

Quick  after  his  words  came  the  notes  of  a 
bugle  sounding  the  **  assembly,"  with  other  calls 
taken  up  by  the  trumpeters  of  the  respective  corps, 
followed  by  a  hurrying  to  and  fro — horses  un- 
haltered,  bitted  and  saddled,  men  buckling  en 
swords,  grasping  lances,  or  adjusting  accoutre- 
ments ;  then  trumpets  once  more  commanding  the 
"  march,"  and  in  less  than  the  prescribed  time 
neither  trooper  nor  soldier  of  any  sort  could  be 
seen  within  the  precincts  of  High  Meadow  House, 
or  anywhere  around. 

But    the    place     was     not     altogether     deserted., 


HIGH  MEADOW  HOUSE.  2Sg 

The  domestics  and  out  door  servants  of  its 
absent  owner  were  still  there.  In  greater  numbers 
now,  as  many  came  stealing  from  holes  and 
corners,  where  they  had  been  all  day  hiding  in 
fear  of  rough  treatment  by  the  Roundheads. 

Hairs  head  man,  the  steward  of  the  estate,  was 
among  them,  he  too  having  come  from  a  place 
of  concealment  as  soon  as  warned  that  the  troops 
had  taken  departure.  Different  from  the  rest,  he 
was  on  horseback.  Nor  did  he  alight.  Instead, 
after  getting  their  report,  from  such  of  the  house- 
servants  as  had  been  there  all  the  while  and  heard 
everything,  he  reined  about  and  rode  off  again. 
Not  to  follow  the  retiring  Parliamentarians,  but 
in  quite  the  contrary  direction. 

So,  while  Massey  and  his  troops  were  on  the 
march  from  High  Meadow,  apparently  en  route  for 
Gloucester,  a  man — this  same  steward — was  riding 
down  the  Kymin  at  a  break-neck  pace,  the  bearer 
of  glad  news  to  the  Governor  of  Monmouth. 


CHAPTER   XLIV. 

OUT    IN     THE    STORM. 

Though  clear  and  placid  had  been  the  sky  when 
the  two  colonels  stood  by  the  Buckstone,  in  a  few 
hours  after  it  was  all  clouded.  Night  had  de- 
scended, but  in  addition  to  its  natural  darkness, 
the  white  fleecy  cumuli  along  the  western  horizon 
had  turned  black  at  the  setting  of  the  sun  ;  then 
rolled  upward,  overspreading  heaven's  whole  canopy 
as  with  a  pall.  But  the  obscurity  was  not  con- 
tinuous. The  extreme  sultriness  of  the  day  had 
disturbed  the  electrical  equilibrium  of  the  atmo- 
sphere, resulting  in  a  thunderstorm  of  unusual 
violence.  At  intervals  vivid  sheets  of  lightning 
illumined  the  firmament,  while  red  zig-zagging 
bolts,  like  arrows  on  fire,  pierced  the  opaque  clouds, 
bringing  down  rain  as  at  the  Deluge. 

Between  the  flashes  all  was  darkness  ;  so  dense 
that  a  traveller  on  the  Forest  roads  must  needs 
stop  till  the  bla.^.e  came  again,  else  run  the  risk  of 
straying  from  the  track,  possibly  to  bring  up 
against  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  But  it  was  a  night 
on  which  no  traveller  would  think  of  venturing 
forth,  and  one  already  on  the  road  would  make 
for  the  nearest  shelter. 

Yet  were  there  traveller^  abroad,  or  at  least  men 
on  horseback,  who  neither  sought  this  nor  seemed 
to  regard  the  raging  elements.    About  a  mile  from 


OUT  IN   THE  STORM.  29 1 

High  Meadow  House,  on  the  Coleford  Road,  a 
party  of  four  might  be  seen  seated  in  the  saddle 
under  a  spreading  tree.  That  they  were  not  shel- 
tering from  the  rain  could  be  told  by  its  pouring 
down  upon  them  through  the  leaves  quickly  as 
elsewhere,  and  their  being  already  wet  to  the  skin. 
Shadow,  for  concealment,  was  evidently  their  object, 
though  at  intervals  the  lightning  interfered  with  it 
But  they  were  in  such  position  as  to  command  a 
view  of  the  road,  and  any  one  coming  along  it, 
before  being  themselves  observed.  As  now  and 
then  the  blue  electric  light  gleamed  around  them, 
it  could  be  seen  that  they  were  in  uniform — an 
officer  and  three  common  troopers,  one  with  trumpet 
in  hand — while  their  attitude  of  listening  pro- 
claimed them  on  picket  duty.  A  vidette  it  was, 
stationed  to  watch  the  approaches  and  give  warn- 
ing to  a  larger  force. 

Another  might  have  been  found  at  no  great  dis- 
tance off,  in  a  squestered  glade  of  the  forest,  some 
hundreds  of  horsemen,  who,  as  the  party  under  the 
tree,  were  all  in  their  saddles,  and  alike  disregarding 
the  rain.  Silent  as  spectres  were  they,  here  and  there 
only  a  muttered  word,  with  the  champing  of  bits, 
and  occasionally  the  louder  clink  of  scabbard  against 
stirrup  as  some  horse  shied  at  the  blinding  flash. 

They,  too,  seemed  listening,  as  indeed  were  they 
— especially  a  group  of  officers  near  the  outgoing 
of  the  glade — listening  for  a  signal  preconcerted,  and 
expected  to  come  from  the  trumpeter  under  the  tree. 

Nor  were  these  the  only  soldiers  abroad  and 
voluntarily  exposing  themselves  to  that  drenching 
storm.  While  it  was  at  its  worst,  a  party  of  Horse 
issued  out  of  Monmouth,  and,  crossing  the  Wye 
bridge,  took  the  route  up  Kymin  Hill.  A  small 
body  it  was,  about  forty  in  all,  with  but  two  officers 
^^-he  who    commanded    and    a  cornet,  their    arms 


2o^  ISO  quarter! 

and  accoutrements,  as  the  light  caparison  of  their 
horses,  proclaiming  them  on  scout 

As  the  lightning  flashed  upon  a  banneret  carried 
by  the  cornet,  it  could  be  seen  to  bear  the  emblem 
of  a  crown,  while  other  speciaHties  of  uniform  and 
equipment  betokened  the  little  troop  as  belonging 
to  the  army  of  the  King,  and  therefore  hostile  to 
those  halted  in  the  forest  glade,  whose  insignia 
told  them  to  be  of  the  opposite  party. 

It  wanted  an  hour  or  more  of  midnight  when 
the  party  from  Monmouth,  after  surmounting  the 
Kymin  steep,  entered  Staunton— to  find  the  vil- 
lagers still  awake  and  stirring.  They  had  received 
news  of  Massey's  departure  from  the  neighbour- 
hood, so  hastily  as  to  seem  a  retreat,  and,  indeed, 
knew  the  reason,  or  supposed  they  did,  from  the 
contents  of  that  Coleford  despatch.  Most  of  them 
being  of  Royalist  proclivities,  they  w^ere  sitting  up 
in  jubilance  over  the  event. 

The  soldiers  made  but  short  halt  among  them ; 
just  long  enough  to  get  answer  to  some  inquiries ; 
then  on  to  High  Meadow  House. 

Why  thither  none  of  the  rank  and  file  knew,  not 
even  the  cornet  Alone  their  commanding  officer, 
who  kept  the  true  reason  to  himself,  giving  a 
spurious  one — that  his  object  was  to  make  sure 
of  the  place  being  in  reality  abandoned.  A  weak 
force  as  they  were,  it  would  not  do  to  advance 
farther  along  the  Coleford  road,  should  there 
chance  to  be  an  enemy  in  their  rear. 

This  seemed  reasonable  enough,  nor  were  the 
men  loth  to  accept  it  On  such  a  night  shelter  was 
above  all  things  desirable,  and  they  were  sure  to 
find  snug  quarters  at  the  mansion  of  High  Meadow, 
hoping  their  commander  would  let  them  stay  there 
till  the  storm  came  to  an  end. 

Just  as  they  turned  off  the  high  road,  or  scarce 


OUT  IN  THE  STORM.  293 

a  minute  after,  a  solitary  figure  came  gliding  along 
from  the  Staunton  side,  and  passed  on  towards 
Coleford.  Afoot  it  was,  wrapped  in  a  cloak,  with 
hood,  which,  covering  the  head,  left  visible  only  a 
portion  of  the  face.  Tall,  and  of  masculine  pro- 
portions, otherwise  it  might  have  been  taken  as 
the  figure  of  a  man,  but  for  a  certain  boldness,  yet 
softness  of  outline,  which  betokened  it  that  of  a 
woman.     And  a  woman  it  was — the  cadgeress. 

She  had  followed  the  Royalist  troopers  from 
Staunton,  silently,  stealthily,  and  at  safe  distance 
behind.  But  as  they  turned  off  the  main  road, 
she,  still  keeping  to  it,  broke  into  a  run,  not  slow- 
ing again  till  she  stood  under  the  tree  where  the 
four  Parliamentarians  were  on  picket.  By  the 
fitful  flashes  these  had  seen  her  making  approach, 
at  least  three  of  the  four  knowing  who  it  was — 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn  ;  he  who  had  the  trumpet 
Hubert ;  and  one  of  the  troopers,  wearing  the 
chevrons  of  a  sergeant,  Rob  Wilde. 

That  she  in  turn  recognised  them,  and  had  beeti 
expecting  to  find  them  there,  was  evinced  by  ho 
behaviour.  For  when  she  thought  herself  withir 
hearing,  she  called  out, — 

"Cavaliercs  turned  off  and  goed  for  High 
Meadow  House.     'Bout  forty  theys  be  in  all." 

"  Sound  the  signal,  Hubert ! ''  said  Sir  Richard, 
in  command  to  his  trumpeter,  adding  to  the  bip 
sergeant.  "  Ride  back,  Rob,  and  tell  Captain 
Harley  to  bring  on  our  men  as  rapidly  as  possi- 
ble." 

The  lightning  still  flashed  and  forked,  with  loud 
thunder,  now  in  quick  claps,  now  in  prolonged 
reverberation.  But  between  came  the  notes  of  a 
cavalry  bugle,  in  calls,  which,  reaching  the  glade 
where  Massey*s  men  sat  waiting  in  their  saddles, 
caused   a  pricking  of   spurs,  and   a   quick,  forward 


^94  ^O  QUARTER  1 

movement  at  the  command,  "  March  1 " — word  most 
welcome  to  all. 

Meanwhile,  the  soldiers  from  Monmouth  had 
reached  Hall's  house  to  find  no  enemy  there, 
only  some  servants,  who  at  first  took  them  for  a 
returned  party  of  Parliamentarians.  But  the 
steward,  who  had  been  detained  on  the  way, 
riding  up  the  instant  after,  reassured  the  frightened 
domestics. 

Besides  what  these  had  to  tell,  there  were  other 
evidences  of  the  hurried  evacuation.  On  tables 
everywhere  was  a  spread  of  viands  only  partially 
consumed,  with  tankards  of  ale  unemptied,  and  in- 
side the  house  bottles   of  wine,  some  yet  uncorked. 

The  Cavalier  soldiers  were  not  the  sort  to  hasten 
away  and  leave  such  tempting  commodities  un- 
touched. And,  as  their  commanding  officer  seemed 
not  objecting,  they  were  out  of  their  saddles  in  a 
trice,  eating  and  drinking  as  though  they  had  that 
day  gone  without  either  breakfast  or  dinner. 

The  stable  mangers,  too,  were  full  of  beans 
and  barley,  left  uneaten  by  the  horses  of  the  Par- 
liamentarians, to  which  their  own  animals  fell  with 
a  hungry  voracity  equalling  that  of  their  masters. 

Short  time  was  allowed  them  for  this  greedy 
gormandizing.  Scarce  had  they  taken  seat  by 
the  tables  when  a  trampling  of  hoofs  was  heard 
all  around  the  house,  louder  on  the  stone  pave- 
ment by  the  gate,  from  which  came  the  shout 
"  Surrender ! "  the  same  voice  adding,  **  Twill  be 
idle  for  you  to  resist.  We  are  Massey's  men,  and 
fifty  to  your  one.  If  you  wish  your  lives  spared, 
cry  *  Quarter,'  or  we  cut  you  to  pieces." 

The  carousing  Royalists  were  taken  completely 
by  surprise.  In  fancied  security,  thinking  the  Par- 
liamentarian force  en  route  for  Gloucester,  and  far 
on   the   way,  they   had   neither    placed    picket   nor 


OUT  IN  THE  STORM.  295 

set  sentry ;  and  the  house  being  fortified,  there 
was  no  exit  from  it  save  by  the  one  gate,  now 
blocked  up,  as  they  could  see,  by  a  solid  body  of 
horse.  They  were  literally  in  a  trap,  with  no 
chance  to  get  out  of  it,  for,  by  thm  multitudinous 
hoof-clattering  outside,  they  knew  the  words  "fifty 
to  one"  were  not  far  from  the  truth. 

Alone,  the  cornet  got  off  afoot  by  a  desperate 
leap  into  the  ditch  at  back  ;  stealing  away  unseen 
in  the  darkness.  The  rest  made  no  attempt,  either 
at  escape  or  resistance.  They  but  stood,  terror- 
stricken,  to  hear  the  threat — 

"  Speak,  quick,  or  we  open  fire  on  you !  "  Then, 
at  least,  half  of  them  called  out  "  Quarter !  "  with- 
out waiting  word  ©r  sign  from  their  leader. 

What  followed,  however,  showed  that  he  sanc- 
tioned it.  As  the  Parliamentarian  troopers  came 
riding  in  through  the  gate  he  advanced  to  meet 
them,  with  drawn  sword,  hilt  outward,  which  he 
handed  to  the  officer  at  their  head. 

As  the  latter  took  it,  a  smile  of  peculiar  sig- 
nificance was  exchanged  between  the  two,  with 
words  equally  strange,  inaudible  save  to  them- 
selves. 

"  Glad  to  have  you  back  with  us,  Kyrle." 

"Not  more  than  I  to  get  back,  Walwyn.  God 
knows!  IVe  had  enough  of  Rupert,  and  his 
rascals." 


CHAPTER   XLV. 

A  TOWN   CLEVERLY  TAKEN, 

About  an  hour  after  the  capture  of  Kyrle's  party, 
a  body  of  horse,  numbering  over  one  hundred, 
might  have  been  seen  descending  the  Kymin 
towards  Monmouth.  The  fury  of  the  storm  had 
worn  itself  out,  the  downpour  of  rain  being  suc- 
ceeded by  a  drizzle,  while  the  lightning  only 
flickered  faintly,  and  at  long  intervals,  the  thun- 
der muttering  low  and  distant.  But  the  darkness 
was  deep  as  ever,  and  the  horsemen  rode  down 
the  steep  incline  at  a  slow,  creeping  pace,  as  if 
groping  their  way.  In  silence  too,  neither  word 
of  command,  nor  note  of  bugle,  directing  their 
march. 

Had  there  been  light  enough  to  give  a  good 
view  of  them,  it  might  have  been  guessed  that 
something  other  than  the  darkness  and  difficulty 
of  the  path  was  causing  them  to  advance  in  this 
noiseless,  deliberate  mann-er.  For  at  their  head 
would  have  been  seen  Kyrle  himself;  no  prisoner 
now,  on  parole  of  otherwise,  but  with  sword  re- 
stored, and  in  every  way  acting  as  their  command- 
ing officer!  And  by  his  side  one  who  carried  a 
troop  flag,  with  a  crown  upon  its  field,  the  same 
which  had  been  left  behind  by  the  escaped  cornet 
The  captured  troopers  were  there  too — as  at  first 
glance  any  one  would  suppose  —  forming  a  half 
scor^   files   in   front   of   the   marching   line,  with  a 


A   "lOWN   CLEVERLY   TAXEN.  297 

like  number  in  rear.  Only  in  seeming,  however 
— only  their  uniforms  and  equipments — for  they 
themselves  were  at  that  moment  shut  up  in  a 
cellar  of  High  Meadow  House,  where  Benedict 
Hall  had  erst  incarcerated  many  a  rebel  and  re- 
cusant. 

A  different  set  of  men  were  now  wearing  their 
doublets  and  carrying  their  accoutrements  in  the 
descent  of  the  Kymin  Hill,  and  any  one  familiar 
with  the  faces  of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn's  Foresters 
would  have  recognised  some  fcty  of  them  thus 
partially  disguised,  with  nigh  twice  as  many  more 
in  their  uniforms  there,  the  last  apparently  disarmed 
and  conducted  as  prisoners,  their  place  being 
central  in  the  line ! 

In  rear  of  all  was  the  knight  himself,  with  his 
new  troop  captain,  Harley ;  Sergeant  Wilde  and 
Hubert  the  trumpeter  constituting  the  file  im- 
mediately in  front  of  them — all  four,  as  the  others, 
seemingly  without  arms. 

That  his  oddly  composed  cohort  had  some 
strategic  scheme  in  view  was  evident  from  the 
cautious  silence  in  which  they  advanced.  And  at 
intervals,  Kyrle,  reining  his  horse  to  one  side,  would 
wait  till  the  rearmost  file  came  up  ;  then,  after  ex- 
changing a  word  or  two  with  Colonel  Walwyn,  spur 
back  to  his  place  in  the  lead. 

Thus  noiselessly  they  descended  the  long,  wind- 
ing slope ;  but  when  near  its  bottom,  and  within 
some  three  or  four  hundred  yards  of  the  bridge, 
all  was  changed.  The  troopers  began  to  talk  to 
one  another,  Kyrle  himself  having  given  them  the 
cue.  Loudly  and  boisterously,  with  a  tone  of 
boasting,  their  speech  interspersed  with  peals  of 
light,  joyous  laughter.  All  this  meant  for  the  ears 
of  those  on  guard  at  the  bridge  gate. 

A   sufficiently   strong    force   was   stationed   there, 


298  NO  quarter! 

and  with  fair  vigilance  were  they  guarding  it.  Foi 
although  Massey  had  been  reported  as  on  hirriea 
return  to  Gloucester,  the  fugitive  cornet,  having 
found  his  way  back,  had  brought  with  him  a  differ- 
ent tale.  Afoot,  and  delayed  by  losing  his  way, 
he  had  but  just  passed  over  the  bridge  and  on  to 
the  castle,  after  saying  some  words  that  left  the 
guard  in  a  state  of  alarm. 

It  was  more  bewilderment,  as  the  men  seemingly 
so  merry  drew  near,  invisible  through  the  pitch- 
like darkness.  At  least  a  hundred  there  must  be, 
as  told  by  the  pattering  of  their  horses'  hoofs  on 
the  firm  causeway.  Kyrle's  scouting  party  had 
gone  out  not  half  this  number,  yet  there  was 
Kyrle  himself,  talking  and  laughing  the  loudest. 
Many  of  the  guard — officers  and  soldiers — knew 
his  voice  well,  and  could  not  be  mistaken  about 
it.  What  then  meant  the  sooner  return  of  the 
cornet,  without  his  standard,  and  with  a  tale  of 
disaster  ?  Had  he  retreated  from  a  conflict  still 
undecided,  afterwards  ending  in  favour  of  the  Royal- 
ist forces  ?     It  might  be  so. 

By  this  the  approaching  party  had  got  nearly 
up  to  the  gate,  in  fiont  of  which  the  causeway 
showed  a  wide  gap,  and  through  it,  far  below, 
the  flooded  river  surging  angrily  on.  The  officer 
in  command  of  the  guard  was  about  to  call  out, 
"  Who  comes  ? "  when  anticipated  by  a  hail  from 
the  opposite  side,  pronounced  in  tone  of  demand, — 

"Ho!   over  there  1     Let  the  drawbridge  down!" 

"For  whom?" 

"Kyrle  and  party.  WeVe  taken  prisoners 
threescore  Roundheads,  and  sent  as  many  more  to 
kingdom  come.  Be  quick,  and  let  us  in.  We're 
soaking  wet,  and  hungry  as  wolves  !  " 

"But,  Colonel  Kyrle,"  doubtingly  objected  the 
officer,  "your   cornet    has  just  passed   in,  with  th^ 


A  TOWN  CLEVERLY  TAKEN.        299 

report  that  you  and  your  party  were  made  pri- 
soners !     How  is  it *' 

"  Oh,  he's  got  back,  has  he  ? "  interrupted  the 
ready  Kyrle,  though  for  an  instant  non-plussed. 
**The  coward  I  And  double  scoundrel,  telling 
such  a  tale  to  screen  himself!  Why,  he  dropped 
his  standard  at  sight  of  the  enemy,  and  skulked 
off  before  we  had  come  to  blows !  Ah !  I'll  make 
short  work  of  it  with  him." 

While  he  was  speaking  there  came  a  flash  of 
lightning  more  vivid  than  any  that  had  late  pre- 
ceded, bright  enough  and  sufficiently  prolonged 
for  the  foldiers  on  guard  to  see  those  on  the  other 
side  of  the  chasm  throughout  the  whole  extended 
h'ne.  In  front  some  half  score  files  of  Kyrle's 
Light  Horse,  whose  uniform  was  well  known,  with 
a  like  number  in  the  rear,  and  between,  with 
heads  drooped,  and  looking  dejected,  the  prisoners 
he  had  spoken  of 

The  spectacle  seemed  to  prove  his  words  true. 
Under'  the  jcircumstances  who  could  think  them 
false  ?     Who  suspect  him  of  treason  ? 

Not  the  officer  in  command  of  that  guard,  any- 
how ;  who,  without  further  hesitation  or  parley, 
gave  orders  for  the  lowering  of  the  bridge. 

Down  it  went,  and  over  it  rode  a  hundred  and 
odd  men,  counting  the  supposed  Royalists  and 
^their  unarmed  prisoners.  But  soon  as  inside  the 
'gate,  all  seemed  to  be  armed,  prisoners  as  well  as 
escort,  the  former  suddenly  bristling  with  weapons, 
which  they  had  drawn  from  under  their  doublets  to 
the  cry,  "  For  God  and  Parliament !  "  The  oppos- 
ing shout,  "  For  God  and  the  King ! "  was  stifled 
almost  soon  as  raised,  the  bridge  guard  being 
instantly  overpowered,  many  of  them  cut  down, 
and  killed  outright. 

Then  a  larger  and  heavier  force,  that  had  been 


300  NO  quarter! 

following  down  the  Kymin  Hill,  Massey's  main 
body,  came  on  at  full  gallop  over  the  drawbridge 
and  through  the  gate.  There,  taking  up  the  cry, 
"  God  and  Parliament ! "  they  went  rattling  on 
through  the  streets  of  the  town,  clearing  them 
of  all  hostile  opposition,  and  capturing  everybody 
who  showed  a  rag  of  Royalist  uniform. 

When  the  morning's  sun  rose  over  Monmouth, 
from  its  castle  turrets  floated  a  flag  very  different 
from  that  hitherto  waving  there.  The  glorious 
standard  of  Liberty  had  displaced  the  soiled  and 
blood-stained  banner  of  the  Stuart  Kin^s. 


CHAPTER    XLVI. 

AWAITING    WAR    NEWS. 

"  What  a  life  we've  been  leading,  Sab !     Shut  up 
in    cities   as    birds    in    a   cage!      Now   nearly   two 
years   of  it,  with   scarce   ever   a   peep  at  the   dear, 
deh'ghtful  country.     Oh  !  it's  a  wretched  existence.** 
''  It's  not  the  pleasantest,  I  admit/' 
"And  in  this  prosaic  city,  Gloucester." 
*'Ah,  Vag,  don't  speak  against  Gloucester.     Think 
what  her  citizens  have  suffered   in  the  good  cause. 
And   how    well  they  have   borne  themselves!     But 
for   their   bravery    and    fidelity,  where  might  we  be 
now  ?     Possibly  in    Bristol.      How   would   you   like 
that?" 

**  Not  at  all,"  returned  Vag,  with  a  shrug  and 
grimace,  the  name  of  Bristol  recalling  souvenirs 
aught  but  agreeable  to  her. 

*'  Well,"  resumed  Sabrina,  *'  life  there  is  not 
prosaic,  anyhow  —  if  there  be  poetry  in  scandal. 
Very  much  the  reverse,  I  should  say,  supposing 
half  of  what's  reported  be  true.  But  I  wonder 
how  our  foolish  aunt,  and  equally  foolish  cousin, 
are  comporting  themselves  under  the  changed 
circumstances  ?" 

"  Oh  1  they're  happy  enough,  no  doubt ;  every- 
thing just  as  they  wished  it.  Plenty  of  titled 
personages  flitting  and  figuring  around — at  least 
three  princes  of  the  blood  royal,  with  an  occasional 
chance    of  their  seeing   the   King   himself.      Won't 


302  ^  NO  quarter! 

Madame  open  wide  the  doors  of  Montserrat  House'. 
As  for  Clarisse,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  at  hei 
making  a  grand  marriage  of  it,  becoming  baroness 
duchess,  or  something  of  that  sort.  Well,  I  won't 
envy  her." 

Vaga  Powell  could  afford  to  speak  thus  of  her 
Creole  cousin,  with  light  heart  now,  all  envy  and 
jealousy  having  long  since  gone  out  of  it. 

"Let  us  hope  nothing  worse,"  rejoined  the 'elder 
sister,  with  a  doubting  look,  as  though  some  pain- 
ful thought  were  in  her  mind.  **  Clarisse  is  very^ 
very  imprudent,  to  say  the  least  of  it." 

"  And  very  wicked,  to  say  nothing  more  than 
the  most  of  it.  But  what  need  we  care,  Sab, 
since  we  neither  of  us  ever  intend  going  near  the 
Lalandes  again  ?  After  the  way  they  behaved  to 
us,  well " 

"  Well,  let  us  cease  speaking  of  them,  and  turn 
to  some  pleasanter  subject." 

'*  Ay,  if  that  were  possible.  Alas  !  there's  none 
very  pleasant  now— every  day  new  anxieties,  new 
fears.  I  wish  this  horrid  war  were  at  an  end,  one 
way  or  the  other,  so  that  we  might  get  back  to 
dear  old   HoUymead." 

**  Don't  say  one  way  or  the  other,  Vag.  If  it 
should  end  in  the  King  being  conqueror,  Holly- 
mead  will  be  no  more  a  home  for  us.  It  would 
even  cease  to  belong  to  us." 

"  I  almost  wish  it  never  had." 

''Why  that?" 

"You  should  know,  Sab.  But  for  my  father 
sending  him  there  after 'those  worthless  things,  he 
would  not  now  be " 

"  Dear  Vaga ! "  interrupted  the  elder  sister  en- 
treatingly.  *'  For  your  life  do  not  let  father  hear 
you   speak   in  that  strain.     'T would   vex  him   very 


AWAITING  WAR   NEWS.  303 

much,  and,  as  you  yourself  know,  he  has  grieved 
over  it  already." 

"Ah,  true.  I  won't  say  a  word  about  it  again, 
in  his  hearing,  anyhow — you  may  trust  me.  But 
it's  hard  to  think  of  my  dear  Eustace  being  in  a 
prison — shut  up  in  a  dark  dungeon,  perhaps  hunger- 
ing, thirsting,  and,  worse  than  all,  suffering  ill- 
treatment  at  the  hands  of  some  cruel  jailer." 

She  was  justified  in  calling  him  her  "dear 
Eustace"  now,  and  giving  him  all  her  sympathies. 
Since  that  night  of  perverse  misconceptions  at 
Montserrat  House  there  had  been  many  an  inter- 
view between  them  ;  the  thread  of  their  interrupted 
dialogue  by  Ruardean  Hill  had  been  taken  up 
again,  and  spun  into  a  cord  which  now  bound 
them  together  by  vows  of  betrothal. 

Of  their  engagement  Sabrina  was  aware,  and 
under  the  like  herself,  she  could  well  comprehend 
her  sister's  feelings.  True,  her  betrothed  was  not 
in  a  prison,  but  she  knew  not  how  soon  he  might 
be — or  worse,  dead  on  the  battle-field.  Invincible 
as  she  believed  him,  war  had  its  adverse  fates, 
was  full  of  perils,  every  day,  as  the  other  had  said, 
fraught  with  new  anxieties  and  fears.  Concealing 
her  own,  she  essayed  to  dispel  those  of  her  sister, 
rejoining, — 

"Nonsense,  Vag.  Nothing  so  bad.  Why  should 
they  treat  him  with  cruelty  ? " 

"You  forget  that  they  call  him  renegade.  And 
they  on  the  King's  side  are  most  spiteful  against 
all  who  turn  from  them.  Think  how  his  own 
cousin  acted  towards  him  ;  and  'tis  said  his  father 
disowned  him.  Besides,  other  prisoners  have  been 
scandalously  treated  by  the  Cavaliers,  some  even 
tortured.     And  they  may  torture  him." 

"No  fear  of  theii  doing  that.  Even  if  disposed 
they're  not  likely  to  Jaave  the  opportunity." 


304  NO  QUARTER  I 

"But  they  have  it  now." 

"Not  quite." 

"  I  don't  comprehend  you,  Sab.** 

"  It's  very  simple.  Heartless  as  many  of  the 
Royalists  leaders  are,  and  vindictive,  they  will  be 
restrained  by  the  thought  of  retaliation.  At  this 
time  our  people  hold  two  prisoners  to  their  one. 
A  large  number  of  these  Monmouth  men,  with 
their  officers,  have  been  taken  at  Beachley,  and 
that  will  insure  humane  treatment  to  your 
Eustace.     So  make  you  mind  easy  about  him.*' 

It  became  easier  as  she  listened  to  the  cheering 
words,  almost  reassured  by  others  spoken  in  con- 
tinuation. 

"  In  any  case,"  pursued  Sabrina,  "  his  captors  are 
not  likely  to  have  the  time  for  torttiring,  as  you 
put  it.  Richard's  last  letter  says  he  and  his 
troops  were  at  High  Meadow  House — the  Halls', 
near  Staunton,  you  know  ?  " 

"  That  Papist  family ;  great  friends  of  Sir  John 
and  Lady  Wintour.    I  remember  their  place.   Well } " 

"He  was  there  in  advance,  awaiting  the  Governor 
to  come  up,  with  every  hope  of  their  being  able  to 
take  Monmouth.  If  they  succeed,  and  they  will 
— I  feel  sure  they  will,  Vag — then  Eustace  will  be 
a  free  man,  and  all  of  us  go  back  to  Hollymead, 
with  not  much  danger  of  being  again  molested." 

"  Oh  1 "  exclaimed  the  younger  sister,  overjoyed 
by  the  prospect  thus  shadowed  forth,  "wouldn't 
that  be  delightful  1  Back  at  the  dear  old  place. 
Once  more  our  walks  and  rides  through  the 
Forest.  Our  hawking,  too.  Bless  me!  my  pretty 
Pers  and  your  Mer,  I  suppose  they  won't  know 
us!  I  trust  Van  Dom  hasn't  neglected  them,  nor 
my  Hector  either." 

And  so  she  ran  on,  in  the  exuberance  of  her 
new-sprung  hopes  seemingly  forgetting  him  around 


AWAITING   WAR   NEWS.  30$ 

whom  they  all  centred.  Only  for  an  instant 
though.  Without  Eustace  Trevor  by  her  side 
the  Forest  walks  and  rides,  with  Hollymead  and 
its  hawking,  -  would  have  less  attraction  for  her 
now.  Wherever  he  might  be,  that  were  the  place 
of  her  choice,  thenceforth  and  for  ever.  So  soon 
the  thought  of  his  being  in  a  prison,  with  fears  of 
something  worse,  came  back  in  all  its  bitterness. 

And  the  shadow  of  returned  anxiety  was  again 
visible  on  the  brow  of  Sabrina.  A  fortified  town 
to  be  taken  there  would  needs  be  fighting  of  a 
desperate  kind — her  lover  in  the  thick  of  it.  A 
forlorn  hope  for  storming,  who  so  like  as  her 
soldier  knight  to  be  the  leader  of  it  ?  He  had 
been  so  at  Beachley,  and  proud  was  she  on  hear- 
ing of  his  achievements  there.  But  at  the  thought 
of  his  now  again  undergoing  such  risk,  with  all 
the  uncertainties  of  war — that  he  might  fall  before 
the  ramparts  of  Monmouth,  even  at  that  moment 
be  lying  lifeless  in  its  trenches — her  heart  sank 
within  her. 

For  a  time  both  were  silent.  Then  Sabrina, 
with  another  effort  to  cast  off  the  gloomy  re- 
flections, which  she  saw  were  also  affecting  her 
sister,  said, — 

"  Richard  promised  to  write  again  last  night, 
or  early  this  morning,  if  there  should  be  any- 
thing worth  writing  about.  He  hasn't  written 
last  night,  or  the  letter  would  have  been  here 
now.  If  this  morning,  I  may  soon  expect  it.  His 
messengers  are  never  slow,  and  a  man  on  a  swift 
horse  should  ride  from  High  Meadow  House  to 
Gloucester  in  two  hours,  or  a  little  over." 

From  her  belt  she  drew  a  quaint,  three-cornered 
watch  to  ascertain  the  correct  time.  Correct  or 
not,  its  hands  pointed  to  lo  a.m.  A  messenger 
fr<^m    the    High    Meadow    qould    have   been    there 


3o6  NO  QUxVRTER  ! 

before  if  sent  off  at  an  early  hour,  and  on  an 
errand  calling  for  courier  speed. 

Perhaps  no  reason  had  arisen  for  such,  and 
consoling  herself  with  this  reflection,  she  resumed 
speech,  saying, — 

**  Anyhow,  we  may  make  sure  of  getting  news 
before  noon,  some  kind  or  other.  The  Governor 
will  be  sending  a  despatch  to  the  Committee,  and 
one  may  have  already  reached  them.  We  shall 
know  when   father  returns." 

The  last  remark  had  reference  to  the  fact  of 
Ambrose  Powell  being  one  of  the  Parliamentary 
Commissioners  for  the  Gloucester  district,  and  just 
then  in  committee. 

But  the  anticipated  'news  reached  them  without 
being  brought  by  him.  As  they  stood  conversing 
in  an  embraced  window,  which,  terrace-like,  over- 
hung the  street,  they  heard  a  clattering  of  hoofs, 
almost  at  the  same  instant  to  see  a  horseman 
coming  on  at  quick  pace.  When  opposite  the 
house  in  which  they  were,  he  halted,  flung  himself 
out  of  the  saddle,  and  disappeared  from  their 
sight  under  the  projecting  balcony.  Long  ere 
this  they  had  recognised  Sir  Richard's  henchman 
Hubert. 

There  was  a  loud  rat-tat-tat  at  the  street  door, 
and  soon  after  a  gentle  tapping  against  that  of 
their  room,  which  both  recognised  as  from  the 
knuckles  of  Gwenthian,  simultaneously  exclaiming, 
<'  Come  in." 

In  came  she  with  a  letter  that  seemed  terribly 
soiled  and  crumpled. 

^*  Hubert  has  brought  this,  my  lady,"  she  said, 
holding  it  towards  Sabrina,  for  whom  the  sharp- 
witted  Welsh  maid  knew  it  was  meant.  '*  Poor 
man  !  he  be  wet  to  the  skin,  and  all  over  mud, 
and   looks   as   if  just   dropped   out   of  a   duck  pond.** 


AWAITING  WAR  NEWS.  307 

The  "  poor  man  "  was  but  a  mild,  evasive  form 
of  expressing  her  sympathy.  Had  she  put  it  as 
she  felt,  it  would  have  been  "dear  man,"  for  long 
ago  had  Gwenthian  entered  into  tender  relations 
with  the  trumpeter. 

Neither  of  the  sisters  gave  ear  to  what  she  was 
saying,  for  the  elder  had  snatched  the  letter  out 
of  her  hand,  and  torn  it  open  on  the  instant,  while 
the  younger  stood  by  in  eager,  anxious  attitude. 

There  was  contentment  in  Sabrina's  eyes  as  she 
glanced  at  the  superscription.  It  became  joy  on 
reading  the  first  words  written  inside,  and  she  cried 
out,  in  tone  of  enthusiastic  triumph, — 

"  Glorious  news,  sister !  They've  taken  Mon- 
mouth ! " 

**  They  have  !     Heaven  be  praised  !  " 

Sabrina  was  about  to  read  the  letter  aloud,  when 
some  words  caught  her  eye  which  admonished  first 
running  it  over  to  herself  hastily,  as  the  other 
was  all  impatience.     It  ran  : — 

"  My  love, — We  are  inside  Monmouth,  thanks 
to  little  strategy  I  was  able  to  effect,  with  the 
help  of  an  old  Low  Country  comrade,  Kyrle,  of 
Walford,  whom  you  may  know.  For  all,  we  had 
some  sharp  fighting  by  the  bridge  gate,  where 
Kyrle  proved  himself  worthy  of  his  ancient  repute 
as  soldier  and  swordsman.  Had  we  failed  there 
this  letter  would  not  have  been  written,  unless, 
perhaps,  inside  a  prison.  And  now  on  that  subject 
Vm  sorry  to  say  E.  Trevor  is  still  in  one,  but, 
unluckily,  not  at  Monmouth.  Taken  by  Harry 
Lingen  from  the  Hereford  side,  they  have  carried 
him  off  that  way,  likely  to  Goodrich  Castle.  What's 
worse,  he  has  been  wounded ;  whether  severely  or 
not,  I  haven't  yet  been  able  to  ascertain.  Soon  as 
I  can  learn  for  certain  where  he  is,  and  what  the 
nature   of    his   hurt,    you    shall    hear   from   me,   as    I 


308  NO  QUARTEJl! 

know  youi*  sister  will  be  in  a  sad  state  of  anxiety. 
We've  made  many  prisoners,  and  now,  command- 
ing Monmouth,  may  hope  to  gather  in  a  good 
many  more.  If  we  succeed  in  clearing  the  Wye's 
western  bank  of  the  wolves  so  long  infesting  it 
you  may  all  safely  return  to  Hollymead/' 

The  letter  did  not  conclude  quite  so  abruptly. 
There  were  some  expressions  tenderer  and  of 
more  private  nature,  which  she  was  scarce  permitted 
to  read,  much  less  dwell  upon.  For  Vaga,  all  the 
while  gazing  in  her  face  with  a  look  of  searching 
interrogation,  saw  a  shadow  pass  over  it,  and 
unable  longer  to  bear  the  suspense,  cried  out, — 

"  There's  something  wrong  ?  Ah  I  it's  Eustace ; 
I  know  it  is  1 " 

"Nothing  wrong  with  him  more  than  we  knew  of 
already.  He  is  still  a  prisoner ;  but,  of  course, 
not  at  Monmouth,  or  he'd  have  been  released. 
They  have  taken  him  away  from  there,  as  Richard 
thinks,  to  Goodrich  Castle." 

There  was  that  in  her  manner,  with  the  words 
and  their  tone  of  utterance,  which  led  to  a  sus- 
picion of  either  subterfuge  or  reticence.  And  Vaga 
so  suspecting,  with  another  searching  look  into  her 
eyes,  exclaimed, — 

**  You've  not  told  me  all.  There's  something  in 
that  letter  you  fear  to  communicate.  You  need 
not.  Sab.  I'll  try  to  be  brave.  Better  for  me  to 
know  the  worst.     Let  me  read  it." 

Thus  appealed  to  the  elder  sister  gave  way. 
The  thing  she  desired  to  conceal  must  become 
known  sooner  or  later.  Perhaps  as  well,  if  not 
better,  at  once. 

Tearing  off  that  portion  of  the  sheet  on  ^yhich 
were  the  words  of  tenderness  concerning  only 
herself,  she  passed  the  other  into  the  hands  of 
her  sister,  saying, — 


AWAITING    WAR    NEWS.  309 

"  All's  there  that  interests  you,  Vag  ;  and  don't 
let  it  alarm  you.  Remember  that  wounds  are 
always  made  more  of  than " 

"  Wounded !"  came  ihe  interrupting  cry  from 
Vaga*s  lips,  intoned  with  agony.  **  He's  wounded 
— it  may  be  to  death !  I  shall  go  to  Goodrich. 
If  he  die,  I  die  with  him  1 " 


CHAPTER    XLVIL 

OLD   COMRADES. 

"Well,  Dick,  for  a  man  who's  just  captured  a 
city,  you  look  strangely  downhearted  —  more  like 
as  if  you'd  been  captured  yourself." 

It  was  Colonel  Robert  Kyrle  who  made  the  odd 
observation  ;  he  to  whom  it  was  addressed  being 
Colonel  Sir  Richard  Walwyn.  The  time  was 
between  midnight  and  morning,  some  two  hours 
after  Monmouth  had  succumbed  to  their  strategic 
coup- de-main;  the  place  Kyrle's  own  .quarters, 
whither  he  had  conducted  his  old  comrade-in- 
arms to  give  him  lodgment  for  the  rest  of  the 
night. 

Snug  quarters  they  were,  in  every  way  well 
provided.  Kyrle  was  a  man  of  money,  and  liked 
good  living  whether  he  fought  for  King  or  for 
Parliament.  A  table  was  between  them,  on  which 
were  some  remains  of  a  supper,  with  wines  of 
the  best,  and  they  were  quaffing  freely,  as  might 
be  expected  of  soldiers  after  a  fight  or  fatiguing 
march. 

**  Yet  to  you,"  added  Kyrle,  "  Massey  owes  the 
taking  of  Monmouth." 

"  Rather  say  to  yourself,  Kyrle.  Give  the  devil 
his  due,"  returned  the  knight,  with  a  peculiar 
smile. 

Notwithstanding  his  serious  mood  at  the  moment, 
he  could  not  resist  a  jest  so  opportune.     He  knew 


OLD   COMRADES.  3II 

it  would  not  offend  his  old  comrade,  as  it  did  not. 
On  the  contrary,  Kyrle  seemed  rather  to  relish  it, 
with  a  light  laugh  rejoining, — 

"  Little  fear  of  him  you  allude  to  being  cheated 
of  his  dues  this  time.  No  doubt  for  all  that's 
been  done  Fll  get  my  full  share  of  credit,  how- 
ever little  creditable  to  myself  They'll  call  me 
al]  sorts  of  names,  the  vilest  in  the  Cavalier  vocabu- 
lary ;  and,  God  knows,  it's  got  a  good  stock  of 
them.  What  care  I  ?  Not  the  shaking  of  straw. 
My  conscience  is  clear,  and  my  conduct  guided  by 
motives  I'm  not  ashamed  of— never  shall  be.  You 
know  them,  Walwyn  ?  " 

**  I  do,  and  respect  them.  I  was  just  in  the  act 
o^  explaining  things  to  Massey  up  by  the  Buck- 
stone  when  your  letter  came — that  carried  in  the 
cadger's  wooden  leg." 

"  Most  kind  of  you,  Dick  ;  though  nothing  more 
than  I  expected.  Soon  as  I  heard  of  your  being 
at  the  High  Meadow,  I  made  up  my  mind  to  join 
you  there,  even  if  I  went  alone  as  a  common 
deserter.  Never  was  man  more  disgusted  with  a 
cause  than  I  with  Cavalierism.  It  stinks  of  the 
beerhouse  and  bagnio ;  here  in  Monmouth  spiced 
with  Papistry — no  improvement  to  its  nasty  savour. 
But  the  place  will  smell  sweeter  now.  I'll  make  it. 
Massey  has  told  me  I'm  to  have  command." 

"  You  are  the  man  for  it,"  said  the  knight  ap- 
provingly. "  And  I  am  glad  he  has  given  it  to 
you.  Nothing  more  than  you're  entitled  to,  after 
what  you've  done." 

"  Ah  I  'tis  you  who  did  everything  —  planned 
everything.  What  clever  strategy  your  thinking  of 
such  a  ruse !  " 

"  Not  half  so  clever  as  your  carrying  it  out" 

"Well,  Dick,  between  us  we  did  the  trick  neatly, 
didn't  we?" 


^t^  NO  vtJAktER! 

**  Nothing  could  have  been  better.  But  hou'  near 
it  came  to  miscarrying !  When  they  flung  that 
Cornet  in  your   teeth   1   almost  gave  it   up." 

**  I  confess  to  some  misgiving  myself  then.  Il 
looked   awkward  for  a  while." 

*'  That  indeed.  And  how  you  got  out  of  it  1 
Your  tale  of  his  cowardice,  and  threat  to  make 
short  work  with  him,  were  so  well  affected  I  could 
scarce  keep  from  bursting  into  laughter.  But  what 
a  simpleton  that  fellow  who  had  command  of  the 
bridge  guard  !  Was  he  one  of  those  we  cut  down, 
think  you  ^  " 

"  I  fancy  he  was,  and  fear  it.  Among  my  late 
comrades  there  were  many  I  liked  less  than  he.'' 

"  And  the  Cornet,  to  whom  you  gave  cretdit 
for  making  such  good  use  of  his  heels.  Has  he 
escaped  ?  " 

"  IVe  no  doubt  he's  justified  what  I  said  of  him 
by  using  them  again.  He's  one  that  has  a  way 
of  it.  I  suspect  a  great  many  of  them  got  off  on 
the  other  side — more  than  we've  netted.  But  we 
shall  know  in  the  morning  when  we  muster  the 
birds  taken,  and  beat  up  the  covers  where  some 
will  be  in  hiding.  Hopelessly  for  them,  as  I'm  ac- 
quainted with  every  hole  and  corner  in  Monmouth." 

There  was  a  short  interval  of  silence,  while  Kyrle, 
as  host,  leant  over  the  table,  took  up  a  flagon  of 
sack,  and  replenished  their  empty  cups.  On  again 
turning  to  his  guest  he  could  see  that  same  ex- 
pression, which  had  led  to  him  thinking  him  down- 
hearted. Quite  unlike  what  face  of  man  should  be 
wearing  who  had  so  late  gained  glory — reaped  a  very 
harvest  of  laurels — on  more  than  one  battle-field. 
The  exciting  topics  just  discoursed  upon  had  foi 
a  time  chased  it  away,  but  there  it  was  once  more. 

"  Bless  me,  Walwyn !  what  is  the  matter  with 
you?"  asked  Kyrle,  as  he  pushed  the  refilled  goblet 


OLD  COMRADES.  313 

towards  him.  "  You  could  not  look  more  sadly 
solemn  if  I  were  Prince  Rupert,  and  you  my 
prisoner.  Well,  old  comrade,"  he  went  on,  with- 
out waiting  for  explanation,  **  if  what's  troubling 
you  be  a  secret,  I  shan't  press  you  to  answer.  A 
love  affair,  I  suppose,  so  won't  say  another  word." 

**  It  is  a  love  affair  in  a  way." 

"  Well,  Walwyn !  you're  the  last  man  I'd  have 
looked  for  to  get  his  heart  entangled " 

"You  mistake,  Kyrle.  It  has  nothing  to  do 
with  my  heart— in  the  sense  you're  thinking  of." 

"  Whose  heart  then,  or  hearts  ?  For  there  must 
be  a  pair  of  them." 

"  You  know  young  Trevor  ? " 

"  I  know  all  the  Trevors — at  least  by  repute.** 

"He  I  refer  to  is  Eustace — son  of  Sir  William, 
by  Abergavenny." 

"-Ah!  him  I'm  not  personally  acquainted  with; 
though  he's  been  here  for  several  days — in  prison. 
Lingen's  men  took  him  at  Hollymead  House,  near 
Ruardean  ;  brought  him  on  to  Monmouth  on  their 
way  to  Beachley ;  and  going  back  have  carried 
him  with  them  to  Goodrich  Castle.  They  left  but 
yesterday,  late  in  the  evening.  He's  got  a  wound, 
I  believe." 

"Yes.  It's  about  that  I'm  uneasy.  Can  you  tell 
me  anything  as  to  the  nature  of  it?  Dangerous, 
think  you  ? " 

"That  I  can't  say,  not  having  seen  him  myself. 
Some  one  spoke  of  his  arm  being  in  a  sling. 
Likely  it's  but  a  sword  cut,  or  the  hack  of  a  halbert. 
But  why  are  you  so  concerned  about  him,  Dick  } 
He's  no  relative  of  yours." 

"  He's  dearer  to  me  than  any  relative  I  have, 
Kyrle.  I  love  him  as  I  would  a  brother.  Besides, 
one,  in  whom  I  am  interested,  loves  him  in  a  differ- 
ent way." 


3U  NO  QtJARtER! 

"  Ah,  yes !  the  lady  of  course  ;  prime  source  and 
root  of  all  evil." 

"  In  the  present  case  the  source  of  something 
good,  however.  But  for  the  lady,  in  all  likelihood 
Monmouth  would  still  be  under  Royalist  rule — 
nay,  I  may  say  surely  would." 

"  How  so,  Walwyn  ?  What  had  she  to  do  with 
the  taking  of  Monmouth  ?  " 

"A  great  deal — everything.  She  was  the  in- 
stigator ;  her  motive  yoii  may  guess." 

*'  I  see ;  to  get  young  Trevor  out  of  prison. 
Well?" 

"  I  had  some  difficulty  in  convincing  Massey 
the  thing  was  possible  ;  and,  but  for  her  intercession 
with  him,  I  might  have  failed  doing  so.  Our 
success  at  Beachley,  however,  settled  it ;  especially 
when  I  laid  before  him  the  scheme  we've  been  so 
fortunate  in  accomplishing." 

"Well,  we  should  thank  the  lady  for  it.  May  I 
know  who  she  is  ? " 

"  Certainly.  The  daughter  of  Ambrose  Powell, 
of  HoUymead." 

"  Ah !  That  explains  why  Trevor  was  there 
when  taken?" 

"  In  a  way,  it  does.** 

"  Fve  but  slight  acquaintance  with  Powell,  myself; 
though,  as  neighbours,  we  were  always  on  friendly 
terms.  He  and  his  family  are  now  in  Gloucester, 
are  they  not  ? " 

"  They  are.  For  a  time  they  stayed  at  Bristol — 
up  to  the  surrender." 

"Luckily  they're  not  there  now.  A  sweet  place 
that  for  anything  in  the  shape  of  a  young  lady. 
Master  Powell  may  thank  his  good  star  for  getting 
him  and  his  out  of  it.  Two  daughters  he  has,  if 
I  remember  rightly,  with  names  rather  singular— 
abrina  and  Vag-a  ?  "  ' 


OLD  COMRADES. 

"They  are  so  named." 

•'With  whom  is  young  Trevor  in  relations?" 

"  The  younger,  Vaga.  Poor  girl !  she'll  be  ter- 
ribly disappointed  when  she  hears  of  his  having 
been  carried  on  out  of  our  reach,  and  so  near  being 
rescued ! " 

"  Out  of  our  reach !  **  said  Kyrle,  an  odd  ex- 
pression coming  over  his  features,  as  if  some  thought 
had  struck  him.     "  Is  that  so  sure  ?  " 

**  Why  not  ?  He's  in  Goodrich  Castle.  You 
don't  think  it  possible  for  us  to  take  it  ? " 

"Not  at  present;  though,  by-and-by,  it  may  be 
within  the  possibilities.  No  man  wishes  more 
than  I  to  see  the  proud  pile  razed  to  the  ground, 
and  Henry  Lingen  hanged  over  the  ruins.  Many 
the  fright  he  has  given  my  poor  father  with  his 
cowardly  threats.  But  I  hope  getting  quits  with 
him  before  the  game's  at  an  end." 

"What  chance  then  of  rescuing  Trevor?  Have 
you  thought  of  any?" 

"  I  have.  And  not  such  a  hopeless  one  either. 
You're  willing  to  risk  something  to  get  him  free  ? " 

"  Anything  !     My  life,  if  need  be." 

"  That  risk  will  be  called  for ;  mine  too,  if  we 
make  the  attempt  I'm  thinking  of." 

"  An  attempt !  Tell  me  what  it  is.  For  heaven's 
sake,  Kyrle,  don't  keep  me  in  suspense  ! " 

"  It's  this,  then.  Lingen,  it  appears,  don't  intend 
lodging  any  prisoners  in  Goodrich  Castle.  Since 
the  affair  at  Beachley  he  has  some  fear  of  his 
castle  being  besieged ;  and  in  a  siege  the  more 
mouths  the  worse  for  him.  By  the  merest  accident 
I  heard  all  this  yesterday  ;  and  that  the  party  he 
took  away  from  here  will  be  sent  on  to  Here- 
ford under  escort  first  thing  to-morrow  morning — 
that  is  this  morning,  since  it's  now  drawing  up  to 
it." 


3i6  NO  quarter! 

"I. think  I  comprehend  you,  Kyrle." 

•*  You'd  be  dull  if  you  didn't,  Walwyn/ 

"You  mean  for  us  to  strike  out  along  the 
Hereford  Road,  and  intercept  the  escort  ? " 

"Just  so.  'Twill  be  venturing  into  the  enemy's 
ground  dangerously  far ;  but  with  a  bold  dash  we 
may  do  it." 

"  We  will  do  it  1 " 

"What  about  leave  from  Massey?  Do  you 
think  there  will  be  any  difficulty  in  our  getting 
that  ?  " 

"  I  don't  anticipate  any.  In  my  case  he  can't 
object.  My  command  is  independent  of  him ;  the 
troop  my  own  ;  and,  though  now  numbering  little 
over  a  hundred,  they  are  Foresters,  and  I've  no 
fear  to  match  them  against  twice  their  count  of 
Lingen's  Lancers — the  gentlemen  of  Hereford,  as 
they  style  themselves." 

"Then  you  agree  to  it?  We  go  if  Massey  gives 
permission } " 

"  I  go,  whether  he  gives  it  or  not.  In  fact,  I 
don't  feel  much  caring  to  ask  him." 

"  Egad !  that  may  be  the  best  way,  and  I'm 
willing  to  risk  it  too.  Suppose  we  slip  out  without 
saying  a  word }  Time's  everything.  Our  only 
chance  with  the  escort  will  be  to  take  them  by 
surprise — an  ambuscade.  For  that  we'll  have  to 
be  well  along  the  Hereford  road  before  daylight. 
I  know  the  very  spot ;  but  we  must  be  into  the 
saddle  at  once." 

**Then  at  once  let  us  into  it  I" 


CHAPTER  XLVIII. 

BETWEEN   TWO   PRISONS. 

In  Parliamentary  war  times  English  roads  were 
very  different  from  what  they  are  of  to-day. 
Those  of  the  shires  bordering  Wales  were  no 
better  than  bridle  paths,  generally  following  the 
routes  of  ancient  British  trackways,  regardless  of 
ups  and  downs.  Travel  over  them  was  chiefly 
in  the  saddle  or  afoot,  traffic  by  pack-horse, 
wheels  rarely  making  mark  on  them  save  when 
some  grand  swell  of  the  period  transported  his 
family  from  town  to  country  house.  Then  it  was 
a  ponderous  coach  of  the  chariot  order,  swung  on 
leathern  springs — such  as  the  gossipy  Pepys  and 
Sir  Charles  Grandison  used  to  ride  in — calling  for 
at  least  four  horses,  with  a  retinue  of  attendatnts. 
These  last  armed  with  sword  and  pistol  for  pro- 
tection against  robbers,  but  also,  pioneer  fashion, 
carrying  spade  and  axe  to  fill  up  ruts,  patch  broken 
bridges,  and  cut  down  obstructing  trees. 

Where  the  routes  ran  over  hills,  the  causeway, 
sunk  below  the  level  of  the  adjacent  land,  was 
more  like  the  bed  of  a  dry  watercourse  than  a 
highway  of  travel ;  this  due  to  the  wear  of  hoof 
and  washing  away  by  rains.  There  was.  no  Mac- 
adam then  to  keep  the  surface  to  its  normal  height 
by  a  compensating  stratum  of  stone  ;  and  in  many 
places  the  tallest  horseman,  on  the  back  of  a  six- 
tesn-hands  horse  would   see  a  cliff  on  either  side 

317 


3lS  NO  QtJARTfeRl 

of  him,  its  crest  barely  touchable  with  the  stock 
of  his  whip.  Often  half  a  mile  or  more  of  this 
ravine-like  road  would  be  encountered,  so  narrow 
that  vehicles  meeting  upon  it  could  not  by  any 
possibility  pass  each  other ;  one  of  them  must 
needs  back  again,  perhaps,  hundreds  of  yards ! 
To  avoid  such  contretempSy  the  husbandman  who 
had  occasion  to  carry  corn  to  the  mill,  or  produce 
to  the  market  town,  in  his  huge  lumbering  wain, 
was  compelled  by  law  to  announce  its  approach 
by  a  jangle  of  big  bells,  or  the  blowing  of  a 
horn  ! 

Yet  over  these  ancient  highways  —  many  of 
them  still  in  existence — the  Roman  legionaries  of 
Ostorius  Scapula  had  borne  their  victorious  eagles  ; 
and  along  them  many  a  Silurian  warrior,  standing 
erect  in  his  scythe-winged  chariot,  was  carried  to 
conquest  or  defeat. 

At  a  later  period  had  they  echoed  the  tramp 
of  armed  men,  when  Henry  IV.,  father  of  Agin- 
court's  hero,  made  war  upon  the  Welsh.  Later 
still,  twice  again,  in  the  days  of  the  gallant  Lle- 
wellyn and  those  of  the  bold  Glendower  ;  and  still 
farther  down  the  stream  of  time  were  they  stained 
with  blood  as  of  brother  shed  by  brother,  when 
England's  people — those  of  Wales  as  well — King* 
mad  and  King- cursed,  took  a  fancy,  or  phrensy, 
to  cut  one  another's  throats  about  the  colour  of 
a  rose. 

And  now,  on  these  same  roads,  two  centuries 
later,  they  were  again  engaged  in  a  fratricidal 
strife,  though  not  as  before  with  both  sides  in- 
fatuated through  kingcraft.  One  was  fighting  for 
a  better  cause — the  best  of  all — a  people's  free- 
dom. The  first  time  they  had  struck  blow  for 
this  or  themselves  ;  their  stand  for  Magna  Charta, 
so   much  vaunted,  being    a    mere    settling  of   dis- 


BETWEEN   TWO   PRISONS.  3I9 

putes  between  barons  and  king;  no  quarrel  of 
theirs,  nor  its  results  much  gain  to  them.  Neither 
would  it  be  far  from  the  truth  to  say,  it  was  the 
last  time  for  them  to  draw  sword  on  the  side  of 
human  liberty ;  indeed  difficult  to  point  out  any 
war  in  which  Great  Britain  has  been  engaged 
since  not  undertaken  for  the  propping  up  of  vile 
despotisms,  or  for  selfish  purposes  equally  vile,  to 
the  very  latest  of  them — Zululand  and  Afghan- 
istan, videlicet. 

But  the  rebellion  against  Charles  Stuart  had  a 
far  different  aim,  all  who  upheld  it  being  actuated 
by  higher  and  nobler  motives ;  and,  though  the 
war  was  internecine,  it  need  never  be  regretted. 
For  on  the  part  of  England's  people  it  brought 
out  many  a  display  of  courage,  devotion  to  virtue, 
and  other  good  qualities,  of  which  any  people 
might  be  proud. 

Nor  was  it  all  fruitless,  though  seeming  so. 
From  it  we  inherit  such  fragment  of  liberty  as  is 
left  us,  and  to  it  all  such  aspirations  turn.  Not 
all  stifled  by  the  corruption  which  came  imme- 
diately after  under  the  rule  of  the  Merry  Monarch  ; 
nor  yet  by  what  followed  further  on,  during  the 
foul  reign  of  "  Europe's  first  gentleman  ;  "  and  let 
us  hope  still  to  survive  through  one  foreshadowing, 
nay,  already  showing,  corruption   great   as  either. 


Though  in  the  Parliamentary  wars  no  great 
battle  occurred  in  the  counties  of  Monmouth  or 
Hereford,  in  both  there  was  much  partizan  strife, 
at  first  chiefly  along  their  eastern  borders.  Their 
interior  districts,  save  during  the  Earl  of  Stam- 
ford's brief  occupation,  and  Waller's  sweeping  raid, 
had  been  hitherto  in  the  hands  of  the  Royalists  ; 
and    no    traveller    thought   of    venturing    on    theit 


320  NO  QUARTER  I 

roads  who  was  not  prepared  upon  challenge  to  cry 
"  For  the  King  !  '* 

Two  routes  were  especially  frequented  ;  but  more 
by  warlike  men  than  peaceful  wayfarers.  One 
of  them  ran  due  north  and  south  between  their 
respective  capitals.  The  other  passed  through  the 
same,  but  with  a  bow-like  bend  eastward,  keeping 
to  the  valley  of  the  Wye,  and  about  midway  com- 
municating with  the  town  of  Ross.  Between  them 
lay  a  wild  wooded  district  of  country,  the  ancient 
kingdom  of  Ergyn,  to  this  day  known  as  the  Hun- 
dred of  Archenfield.  Through  this  was  a  third 
road,  leading  from  Goodrich  Castle  north-west ; 
which,  on  the  shoulder  of  a  high  hill,  Acornbury, 
some  six  miles  south  of  Hereford,  met  the  more 
direct  route  from  Monmouth — the  two  thence  con- 
tinuing the  same  to  the  former  city. 

On  the  morning  of  the  capture  of  Monmouth, 
at  the  earliest  hour  of  dawn,  a  cavalcade  was  seen 
issuing  from  the  gates  of  Goodrich  Castle,  and 
turning  along  this  road  in  the  direction  of  Here- 
ford. It  numbered  nigh  an  hundred  files,  riding 
"  by  twos,*'  a  formation  which  the  narrow  track- 
way rendered  cpmpulsory.  Most  of  the  men  com- 
prising it  carried  the  lance,  a  favourite  weapon 
with  Colonel  Sir  Henry  Lingen,  its  commanding 
officer.  But  some  twenty  were  without  arms  of 
any  kind,  though  on  horseback :  the  prisoners  of 
whom  Kyrle  had  spoken  as  likely  to  be  trans- 
ferred from  Goodrich  to  the  capital.  The  informa- 
tion accidentally  received  by  him  was  correct ; 
they  were  now  in  transit  between  the  two  places, 
escorted  by  nearly  all  the  castle's  garrison,  Lingen 
himself  at  the  head. 

Had  he  known  of  Monmouth  being  in  the  hands 
of  the  enemy,  he  would  not  have  been  thus  moving 
avyay    froni    his    stronghold.       l^ut,  by  some    rwi^r 


BETWEEN  TWO  PRISONS.  321 

chance,  the  messenger  sent  to  apprise  him  of  the 
disaster,  did  not  reach  Goodrich  till  after  his  de- 
parture for  Hereford. 

Nor  was  his  errand  to  the  latter  place  solely 
to  see  his  prisoners  safely  lodged.  He  had  other 
business  there,  with  its  Governor,  Sir  Barnabas 
Scudamore ;  hence  his  going  along  with  them. 
For  taking  such  a  large  retinue  there  was  the 
same  reason.  Sir  Barnabas  contemplated  an  attack 
on  Brampton  Bryan  Castle  ;  so  heroically  defended 
by  Lady  Brilliana  Harley,  who  had  long  and  re- 
peatedly foiled  his  attempts  to  take  it. 

The  High-Sheriff  of  Hereford  county — for  such 
was  Lingen — took  delight  in  a  grand  Cavalier 
accompaniment — many  of  his  followers  belonging 
to  the  best  families  of  the  shire — and  along  the 
route  they  were  all  jollity,  talking  loud,  and  laugh- 
ing at  each  jeu  d' esprit  which  chanced  to  be 
sprung.  Just  come  from  hard  blows  at  Beach- 
ley,  and  crowded  quarters  in  Monmouth,  they 
were  on  the  way  to  a  city  of  more  pretension,  and 
promising  sweeter  delights.  Hereford  was  at  the 
time  a  centre  of  distinction,  full  of  gentry  from 
the  surrounding  shires ;  above  all,  abounding  in 
the  feminine  element,  with  many  faces  reputed 
fair.  Lingen's  gallants  meant  to  have  a  carousal 
in  the  capital  city,  and  knew  they  would  there 
find  the  ways  and  means,  with  willing  hosts  to 
entertain  them. 

Different  the  thoughts  of  those  whom  they  were 
conducting  thither  as  captives.  No  such  prospects 
to  cheer  or  enliven  them  ;  but  the  reverse,  as  their 
experience  of  prison  life  had  already  taught  them. 

Most  of  all  was  Eustace  Trevor  dejected,  for 
he  was  among  them.  It  had  been  a  trying  week 
for  the  ex-gentletnan  usher.  Captured,  wounded 
— by  good  fortune    but    slightly — transported   from 

Y 


i^2  NO  quarter! 

prison  to  prison,  taunted  as  a  rebel,  and  treated 
as  a  felon,  he  was  even  more  mortified  than  sad. 
Enraged  also  to  the  end  of  his  wits ;  he  the  proud 
son  of  Sir  William  Trevor  to  be  thus  submitted 
to  ignominy  and  insult;  he  to  whom,  at  White- 
hall Palace,  but  two  short  years  before,  earls  and 
dukes  had  shown  subservience,  believing  him  the 
favourite  of  a  Queen  ! 

Harrowing  the  reflections,  and  bitter  the  chagrin, 
he  was  now  enduring,  though  the  Queen  had 
nought  to  do  with  them.  All  centred  on  a  simple 
girl,  in  whose  eyes  he  had  hoped  to  appear  a 
hero.  Instead,  he  had  proved  himself  an  imbecile  ; 
been  caught  as  in  a  trap !  What  would  she — 
Vaga  Powell — think  of  him  now? 

Oft  since  his  capture  had  he  anathematized  his 
ill-fate — oft  lamented  it.  And  never  more  chafed 
at  it  than  on  this  morning  while  being  marched 
towards  Hereford.  While  at  Monmouth  he  had 
entertained  a  hope  of  getting  rescued.  A  rumour 
of  the  affair  at  Beachley  had  penetrated  his 
prison ;  and  he  knew  Massey  had  been  long  con- 
templating an  expedition  across  the  Forest  and 
over  the  Wye.  But  Hereford  was  in  the  heart 
of  the  enemy's  country,  a  very  centre  of  Royalist 
strength  and  rule.  Not  much  chance  of  his  being 
delivered  there;  instead,  every  mile  nearer  to  it 
the  likelier  his  captivity  to  be  of  long  continuance. 

Hope  had  all  but  forsaken  him  ;  yet,  in  this  his 
darkest  hour  of  despondence,  a  ray  of  it  scintil- 
lated through  his  mind,  once  more  inspiring  him 
with  thoughts  of  escape.  For  something  like  a 
possibility  had  presented  itself,  in  the  shape  of  a 
horse — his  own.  The  same  animal  he  bestrode 
in  his  combat  with  Sir  Richard  Walwyn,  and 
that  had  shown  such  spirit  after  a  journey  of 
nigh  fifty  miles.     Many  a  fifty  miles  had  it  borne 


BETWEEN  TWO  PRISONS.  323 

him  Since,  carried  him  safe  through  many  a  hostile 
encounter. 

He  was  not  riding  it  now,  alas  !  but  astride  the 
sorriest  of  nags.  "  Saladin,"  the  name  of  the  tried 
and  trusty  steed,  had  been  taken  froni  him  at. 
Hollymead,  and  become  the  property  of  a  common 
soldier,  one  of  those  who  had  assisted  in  his  cap- 
ture, the  same  now  having  him  in  especial  charge. 
For  each  of  the  prisoners  was  guarded  by  one  of 
the  escort  riding  alongside. 

It  was  by  a  mere  accidental  coincidence  that 
the  late  and  present  owners  of  Saladin  were  thus 
brought  into  juxtaposition  ;  and  at  first  the  former 
only  thought  of  its  singularity,  with  some  vexation 
at  having  been  deprived  of  his  favourite  charger, 
which  he  was  not  likely  to  recover  again.  By-and- 
by,  however,  the  circumstance  became  suggestive. 
He  knew  the  mettle  of  the  horse,  no  man  better. 
Perhaps,  had  Sir  Harry  Lingen,  or  any  of  his 
officers,  known  it  as  well,  a  common  trooper  would 
not  have  been  bestriding  it.  But  as  yet  the 
animal's  merits  remained  undiscovered  by  them, 
none  supposing  that  in  heels  it  could  distance  all 
in  their  cavalcade,  and  in  bottom  run  them  dead 
down. 

On  this,  and  things  collateral,  had  Eustace 
Trevor  commenced  reflecting ;  hence  his  new- 
sprung  hope.  Wounded,  with  his  arm  in  a  sling, 
he  was  not  bound — such  precaution  seeming  super- 
fluous. Besides,  badly  mounted  as  he  was,  any 
attempt  at  flight  would  have  been  absurd,  and 
could  but  end  in  his  being  almost  instantly  re- 
taken. So  no  one  thought  of  his  making  it,  save 
himself;  but  he  did — had  been  cogitating  upon  it 
all  along  the  way. 

"  If  I  could  but  get  on  Saladin's  back ! "  was 
his  mental   soliloquy,   "  Td    risk    it.     Three  lengths 


324  NO  quarter! 

of  start — ay,  one — and  they  might  whistle  after 
me.      Their    firelocks    and    lances  all  slung,  pistols 

in  the  holsters  buckled  up  ;    none  dreaming  of 

Oh  !   were  I  but  in  that  saddle ! " 

It  was  his  own  saddle  to  which  he  referred,  now 
between  the  legs  of  the  trooper,  who  had  appro- 
priated it  also. 

Every  now  and  then  his  eyes  were  turned  to- 
wards the  horse  in  keen,  covetous  look ;  which 
the  man  at  length  observing,  said, — 

"  Maybe  ye'd  like  to  get  him  back.  Master 
Captain?  He  be  precious  good  stuff;  an*  I  don't 
wonder  if  ye  would.     Do  ye  weesh  it  ? " 

It  was  just  the  question  Saladin's  ci-devant 
owner  desired  to  be  asked,  and  he  was  on  the  eve 
of  answering  impressively,  "Very  much."  A  re- 
flection restraining  him,  he  replied,  in  a  careless 
indifferent  way, — 

"Well,  I  shouldn't  mind — if  you  care  to  part 
with  him." 

"That  would  depend  on  what  ye  be  willin'  to 
gie.     How  much  ? " 

This  was  a  puzzler.  What  had  he  to  give } 
Nothing!  At  his  capture  they  had  stripped  him 
clean,  rifled  his  pockets,  torn  from  his  hat  the 
jewelled  clasp  and  egret's  plume — that  trophy  of 
sweet  remembrance.  Even  since,  in  Monmouth 
gaol,  they  had  made  free  with  certain  articles  of 
his  attire  ;  so  that  he  was  not  only  unarmed  and 
purseless,  but  rather  shabbily  dressed ;  anything 
but  able  to  make  purchase  of  a  horse,  however 
moderate  the  price. 

Would  the  man  take  a  promise  of  payment  at 
some  future  time — his  word  for  it }  The  proposal 
was  made ;  a  tempting  sum  offered,  to  be  handed 
over  soon  as  the  would-be  purchaser  could  have 
the  money  sent  him  by  his  friends ;  but  rejected. 


BETWEEN   TWO   PRISONS.  3^$ 

**  That's  no  dependence,  an*  a  fig  for  your 
friends ! "  was  the  coarse  response  of  the  sceptical 
trooper.  "  If  ye  can't  show  no  better  surety  for 
payin',  I  hold  on  to  the  horse,  an*  you  maun  go 
without  him.  'Sides,  Master  Captain,  what  use 
the  anymal  to  ye  inside  o'  a  prison,  where's  yer 
Hke  to  be  shut  up,  Lord  knows  how  long?^ 

"  Ah,  true ! "  returned  the  young  officer,  with  a 
sigh,  and  look  of  apparent  resignation.  "Still, 
corporal," — the  man  had  a  cheveron  on  his  sleeve 
— '*it's  killing  work  to  ride  such  a  brute  as  this. 
If  only  for  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Hereford,  Fd 
give  something  to  exchange  saddles  with  you." 

"  If  ye  had  it  to  gie,  I  dare  say  ye  would,"  re- 
joined the  corporal,  with  a  satirical  grin,  as  he  ran 
his  eye  over  the  bare  habiliments  of  his  prisoner. 
"  But  as  ye  han't,  what  be  the  use  palaverin'  'bout 
it  ?  Till  ye  can  show  better  reezon  for  my  ac- 
commodatin'  you,  we'll  both  stick  to  the  saddles 
we  be  in." 

This  seemed  to  clinch  the  question ;  and  for  a 
time  Eustace  Trevor  was  silent,  feeling  foiled. 
But  before  going  much  farther  a  remembrance 
came  to  his  aid,  which  promised  him  a  better 
mount  than  the  Rosinante  he  was  riding  —  in 
short,  Saladin's  self.  The  wound  he  had  received 
was  a  lance  thrust  in  the  left  wrist — only  a  prick, 
but  when  done  deluging  the  hand  in  blood.  This 
running  down  his  fingers  had  almost  glued  them 
together,  and  the  kerchief  hastily  wrapped  round 
had  stayed  there  ever  since,  concealing  a  ring 
which,  seen  by  any  of  the  Cavalier  soldiers,  would 
have  been  quickly  cribbed.  None  had  seen  it ; 
he  himself  having  almost  forgotten  the  thing,  till 
now,  with  sharpened  wits,  he  recalled  its  being 
there;  knew  it  to  be  worth  the  accommodation 
denied  him,  and  likely  to  obtain  it. 


3^6  NO  quarter! 

"Well,  corporal,"  he  said,  returning  to  the  sub- 
ject, "  I  should  have  liked  a  ride  on  the  horse,  if 
only  for  old  times'  sake,  and  the  little  chance  of 
my  ever  getting  one  again.  But  I'd  be  sorry  to 
have  you  exchange  without  some  compensation. 
Still,  I  fancy,  I  can  give  you  that  without  draw- 
ing upon  time." 

The  trooper  pricked  up  his  ears,  now  listening 
with  interest.  He  was  not  inexorable ;  would 
have  been  willing  enough  to  make  the  temporary 
swop,  only  wanted  a  quid  pro  quo, 

"What  do  you  say  to  this?"  continued  the 
young  officer. 

He  had  slipped  his  right  hand  inside  the  sling; 
and  drawn  forth  the  golden  circlet,  which  he  held 
out  while  speaking.  It  was  a  jewelled  ring,  the 
gems  in  cluster  bedimmed  with  the  blood  that 
had  dried  and  become  encrusted  upon  them.  But 
they  sparkled  enough  to  show  it  valuable ;  worth 
far  more  than  what  it  was  being  offered  for.  And 
there  was  a  responsive  sparkle  in  the  eyes  of  him 
who  bestrode  Saladin,  as  he  hastened  to  say, — 

"  That'll  do.     Bargain  be  it  1 ". 


CHAPTER    XLIX. 

AN   UPHILL  CHASE. 

At  sight  of  the  glistening  gems  a  sudden  change 
had  come  over  the  features  of  the  trooper,  their 
expression  of  surliness  being  displaced  by  that  of 
intense  cupidity.  But  for  this  he  might  have  con- 
sidered  why  the  offer  of  such  valuable  considera- 
tion for  so  trifling  a  service.  As  it  was,  he  had 
no  suspicion  of  it ;  though  on  both  sides  the  dia- 
logue had  been  carried  on  in  guarded  undertone. 
For  this  their  reasons  were  distinct,  each  having 
his  own.  That  of  the  prisoner  is  already  known  ; 
while  a  simple  instinct  had  guided  the  corporal — 
a  fear  that  the  negotiation  between  them  might 
not  be  altogether  agreeable  to  his  superiors. 

More  cautious  than  ever  after  declaring  it  a 
bargain,  he  glanced  furtively  to  the  front,  then 
rearward,  to  assure  himself  they  had  not  been 
overheard,  nor  their  tete-d-tete  noticed  by  any  of 
the  officers. 

It  seemed  all  right,  none  of  these  being  near; 
and  his  next  thought  was  how  to  effect  the  ex- 
change agreed  upon.  The  files  were  wide  apart, 
with  very  little  order  in  the  line  of  march — a  cir- 
cumstance observed  by  Eustace  Trevor  with  satis- 
faction, as  likely  to  help  him  in  his  design.  They 
were  passing  though  a  district  unoccupied  by  any 
enemy  and  where  surprise  was  the  last  thing  to 
be  thought  of.      But    even    straggled    out    as  was 


328  NO  quarter! 

the  troop,  any  transfer  of  horses,  however  adroitly 
done,  would  not  only  be  remarked  upon,  but  cause 
a  block  in  the  marching  column  ,  the  which  might 
bring  about  inquiry  as  to  the  reason,  and  the 
guard,  if  not  the  prisoner,  into  trouble. 

"Ye  maun  ha'  patience  for  a  bit,"  said  the 
former,  in  view  of  the  difficulty.  "'Tan^t  safe  for 
me  to  be  seen  changin'  horses  on  the  road.  But 
ye  won't  ha*  long  to  wait ;  only  till  we  get  to  the 
bottom  o*  that  hill  ye  see  ahead,  Acornbury  it 
be  called.     There  we  can  do  the  thing." 

"  Why  there  ?  " 

The  question  was  put  with  a  special  object, 
apart  from  the  questioner's  impatience. 

"  Cause  o'  an  inn  that  be  theer.  It  stand  this 
side  o' where  the  pitch  begins.  The  Sheriff  always 
stops  at  it  goin'  from  Goodrich  to  Hereford,  an' 
he  be  sure  o'  makin'  halt  the  day.  When's  we  be 
halted — ye  comprehend,  Captain  ?  " 

The  ^man  had  grown  civil  almost  to  friendliness. 
The  prospect  of  becoming  possessed  of  a  valuable 
ring  for  but  an  hour's  loan  of  his  new  horse  had 
worked  wonders.  Could  he  but  have  known  that 
he  was  hypothecating  the  more  valuable  animal 
with  but  slight  chance  of  redeeming  it,  the  bargain 
would  have  been  off  on  the  instant.  His  avarice 
blinded  him ;  and  his  prisoner  now  felt  good  as 
sure  he  would  soon  have  Saladin  once  more  be- 
tween his  knees. 

"  I  do  comprehend — quite,"  was  the  young  officer's 
satisfied  response  ;  and  they  rode  on  without  further 
speech,   both  purposely  refraining  from  it. 

The  corporal  might  have  saved  his  breath  in 
imparting  the  situation  of  the  inn  under  Acorn- 
buj  v"  Hill.  Eustace  Trevor  knew  the  house  well 
as  he ;  perhaps  better,  having  more  than  once 
l?ai^  *d  his  bprs^  ther^.      Familiar  was  he  with  the 


AN   UPHILL  CHASE.  329 

roads  and  country  around,  not  so  far  from  his 
native  place  by  Abergavenny.  Besides,  he  had  an 
uncle  who  lived  nearer,  and  as  a  boy,  with  his 
cousins,  had  ridden  and  sported  all  over  the  dis- 
trict. This  topographical  knowledge  was  now  likely 
to  stand  him  in  stead ;  and  as  he  thought  of  the 
Monmouth  road  joining  that  he  was  on  near  the 
head  of  Acornbury  pitch,  he  fairly  trembled  with 
excitement.  Could  he  but  reach  their  point  of 
junction  on  Saladin's  back  he  would  be  free. 

How  he  longed  to  arrive  at  the  roadside  hostelry ! 
Every  second  seemed  a  minute,  every  minute  an 
hour ! 

It  was  reached  at  length,  and  his  suspense 
brought  to  an  end.  True  to  expectation,  a  halt 
was  commanded  ;  and  the  extended  line,  closing 
up,  came  to  a  stand  on  the  open  ground  before 
the  inn.  A  scrambling  house  of  antique  archi- 
tecture, its  swing  sign  suspended  from  the  limb 
of  an  oaken  giant,  whose  spreading  branches 
shadowed  a  large  space  in  front. 

Under  this  Lingen  and  his  officers  made  stop, 
still  keeping  to  their  saddles,  and  calling  to  Boni- 
face and  his  assistants  to  serve  them  there.  It 
was  only  for  a  draught  they  had  drawn  up,  the 
journey  too  short  to  need  resting  their  horses. 
Nor  was  there  any  dismounting  among  the  rank 
and  file  rearward,  save  where  some  trooper  whose 
girths  had  got  loosened  took  the  opportunity  to 
drop  down  and  tighten  them. 

Seeming  to  do  the  same  was.  the  corporal  in 
charge  of  Eustace  Trevor,  his  prisoner  too,  both 
on  the  ground  together.  Only  an  instant  till  they 
were  in  the  saddle  again,  but  with  changed  horses, 
and  the  blood-crusted  ring  at  the  bottom  of  the 
corporals  pocket. 

Meanwhile   the  officers   under   the  tree  had   got 


330  NO  quarter! 

served,  and,  cups  in  hand,  were  quaffing  joyously. 
In  high  glee  all ;  for  the  sun,  now  well  up,  promised 
a  day  gloriously  fine,  and  they  were  about  to 
make  entry  into  Hereford  with  flying  colours. 
Nearly  twenty  prisoners,  it  would  be  as  a  trium- 
phal procession. 

A  cry,  strangely  intoned,  brought  their  merri- 
ment to  an  abrupt  end  ;  a  chorus  of  shouts,  quick 
following  with  the  clatter  of  hoofs.  Turning,  they 
saw  one  on  horseback  just  parting  from  the  troop,  as 
if  his  horse  had  bolted  and  was  running  away  with 
him  ! 

But  no.  "  Prisoner  escaping ! "  came  the  call, 
as  every  one  could  now  see  it  was.  The  man  in 
rich  garb,  but  soiled  and  torn  ;  the  horse  a  bit  of 
blood  none  of  their  prisoners  had  been  riding. 
One  of  the  officers  they  had  taken — which  ? 

The  question  was  answered  by  the  High  Sheriff 
himself — 

"  Zounds !  it's  that  young  renegade,  Trevor ! 
He  mustn't  escape,  gentlemen.     All  after  him  ! " 

Down  went  tankards  and  flagons,  dashed  to 
the  ground,  spilling  the  wine  they  had  not  time 
to  drink  ;  and  off  all  set,  swords  drawn,  and  spurs 
buried  rowel  deep. 

The  common  men,  save  those  cumbered  with 
prisoners,  joined  in  the  pursuit ;  some  unslinging 
lances  or  firelocks,  others  plucking  pistols  from 
their  holsters. 

"  Shoot !  "  shouted  Lingen.  "  Bring  him  down, 
or  the  horse  !  " 

It  was  the  critical  moment  for  the  fugitive,  and 
in  modern  days  would  have  been  fatal  to  him. 
But  the  old  snap-hans  and  clumsy  horse  pistol  of 
the  Stuart  times  were  little  reliable  for  a  shot 
upon  the  wing,  and  as  a  winged  bird  Saladin  was 
sweeping   away.      Both   volley  and    straggling    fire 


AN  Uphill  chase.  33 1 

failed  to  stay  him  ;  and  ere  the  pursuers  were  well 
laid  on,  the  pursued  was  at  least  fifty  lengths  ahead 
of  the  foremost. 

Up  the  hill,  towards  Hereford,  was  he  heading! 
This  a  surprise  to  all.  In  that  direction  were  only 
his  enemies ;  and  he  could  as  easily  have  gone 
off  in  the  opposite,  with  hope  of  getting  to  Glou- 
cester. At  starting  he  had  even  to  pass  the  group 
of  officers  under  the  tree.  And  why  setting  his 
face  for  Hereford — as  it  were  rushing  out  of  one 
trap  to  run  into  another? 

He  knew  better.  Fleeing  to  the  capital  of  the 
county  was  the  farthest  thing  from  his  thoughts. 
His  goal  was  Monmouth  ;  but  first  the  forking  of 
the  roads  on  the  shoulder  of  Acornbury  Hill. 
That  reached,  with  no  contretemps  between,  he 
might  bid  defiance  to  the  clattering  ruck  in  his 
lean 

The  distance  he  was  so  rapidly  gaining  upon 
them  told  him  he  had  not  been  mistaken  about 
the  superior  qualities  of  his  steed.  If  the  latter 
should  show  bottom  as  it  already  had  heels,  his 
chances  of  escape  were  good.  And  the  omens 
seemed  all  in  his  favour:  his  own  horse  so  oddly 
restored  to  him ;  the  luck  of  that  ring  left  un- 
pilfered  during  his  imprisonment ;  and,  lastly,  to 
have  come  unscathed  out  of  the  shower  of  bullets 
•ent  after  him  !  They  had  whistled  past  his  ears, 
not  one  touching  him  or  the  horse. 

He  thought  of  these  things  when  far  enough 
ahead  to  reflect;  and  the  farther  he  rode  the 
greater  grew  his  confidence.  Saladin  would  be 
sure  to  justify  his  good  opinion  of  him. 

And  Saladin  seemed  to  quite  comprehend  the 
situation.  He  at  least  knew  his  real  owner  and 
master  was  once  more  on  his  back,  which  meant 
something.      And   having    received  word   and   sign 


33^  NO  quarter! 

for  best  speed — the  first  "  On  ! "  the  last  a  peculiar 
pressure  of  the  rider's  knees — he  needed  no  urging 
of  whip  or  spur.  Without  them  he  was  doing  his 
utmost. 

Up  the  pitch  went  he  as  hare  against  hill ;  up 
the  channel-like  trackway  between  escarpuients 
of  the  old  red  sandstone  that  looked  like  artificial 
walls ;  on  upward,  breasting  the  steep  with  as 
much  apparent  ease  as  though  he  galloped  along 
level  ground.  No  fear  of  anything  equine  over- 
taking him  ;  no  danger  now,  for  the  pursuers  were 
out  of  sight  round  many  turnings  of  the  road  ;  the 
hue  and  cry  was  growing  fainter  a.nd  farther  off, 
and  the  stone  which  marked  the  forking  of  the 
routes  would  soon  be  in  sight. 

Eustace  Trevor's  heart  throbbed  with  emotions 
it  had  long  been  a  stranger  to,  for  they  were  sweet. 
He  now  felt  good  as  sure  he  would  get  off,  and 
to  escape  in  such  fashion  would  do  something  to 
restore  his  soldierly  repute,  forfeited  by  the  affair 
of  Hollymead.  Nothing  had  more  exasperated 
him  than  his  facile  capture  there ;  above  all,  the 
light  in  which  a  certain  lady  would  regard  it ;  but 
now  he  could  claim  credit  for  a  deed 

"  Not  done  yet ! "  was  his  muttered  exclamation, 
interrupting  the  pleasant  train  of  thought,  as  he 
reined  his  horse  to  a  sudden  halt. 

He  was  approaching  the  head  of  the  pitch, 
had  almost  surmounted  it,  when  he  saw  what 
seemed  to  tell  him  his  attempt  at  escape  was  a 
failure ;  all  his  strategy,  with  the  swiftness  of  his 
steed,  to  no  purpose.  A  party  of  mounted  men, 
just  breaking  cover  from  among  some  trees,  and 
aligning  themselves  across  the  road.  At  the  same 
instant  came  the  customary  hail, — 

"  Who  are  you  for  ?  " 

The  dazzle  of  the  sun  right  before  his  face,  and 


AN   UPHILL  CHASE.  333 

behind  their  backs,  hindered  his  seeing  aught  to 
give  a  clue  to  their  character— only  the  glance  of 
arms  and  accoutrements  proclaiming  them  soldiers. 
And  as  no  soldiers  were  like  to  be  there  save  on 
the  Royalist  side,  to  declare  himself  truthfully, 
and  respond  **  For  the  Parliament,''  would  be  to 
pronounce  his  own  doom.  Yet  he  hated  in  his 
heart  to  cry  "  For  the  King."  Nor  would  the  de- 
ception serve  him.  They  coming  on  behind  would 
soon  be  up,  and  lay  it  bare. 

He  glanced  to  right  and  left,  only  to  see  that 
he  was  still  between  high  banks  of  the  sunken 
causeway.  On  neither  side  a  possibility  of  scaling 
them  to  escape  across  country.  It  was  but  a 
question,  then,  to  which  he  should  surrender — the 
foe  in  front,  or  that  he  had  late  eluded  ? 

There  was  not  much  to  choose  between  them ; 
in  either  case  he  would  be  returned  to  the  Sheriff 
of  Hereford  ;  but  to  cut  short  suspense  he  decided 
on  giving  himself  up  at  once.  The  road  was 
blocked  by  the  party  of  horse,  and,  weaponless,  to 
attempt  running  the  gauntlet  of  them  would  be  to 
get  piked  out  of  his  saddle,  or   cut  to  pieces  in  it. 

These  observations  and  reflections  occupied  but 
an  instant,  to  end  in  his  responding, — 

"  For  the  Parliament !  " 

He  might  as  well  make  a  clean  breast  of  it,  and 
tell  the  truth. 

**  We  see  you  are.     Come  on  !  " 

Surprised  was  he  at  the  rejoinder  as  at  the  voice 
that  gave  utterance  to  it,  which  seemed  familiar 
to  him.  But  his  surprise  became  astonishment 
when  the  speaker  added,  "  Quick,  Trevor !  we're  in 
ambuscade";  and  drawing  nearer,  the  sun  now 
out  of  his  eyes,  he  saw  that  well-known  banneret, 
with  sword-pierced  crown  in  its  field,  waving  above 
the  head  of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn ! 


CHAPTER  L. 

AN     AMBUSCADE. 

Steaming  at  the  nostrils  Saladin  was  for  the 
second  time  brought  to  a  stand,  head  to  head  with 
old  stable  comrades  that  snorted  recognition.  For 
with  Colonel  Walwyn  was  Rob  Wilde  and  others 
of  his  troop. 

A  hurried  explanation  ensued,  Sir  Richard  first 
asking, — 

"  Your  guards  ?     You  were  being  escorted  ?  * 

"  Yes ;  I've  given  them  the  slip." 

"  Where  are  they  now  i " 

"Coming  up  the  hill — you  hear  them?" 

"Hush!''  enjoined  the  knight,  speaking  to  those 
around  him  ;  and  all  became  silent,  listening. 

Voices,  with  a  quick  trample  of  hoofs,  and  at 
short  intervals  a  call  as  of  command,  from  far 
below  and  but  faintly  heard.  The  road  was  almost 
subterranean,  and  wound  up  through  a  dense  wood. 

** What's  their  number?"  again  questioned  the 
knight. 

"Nigh  two  hundred — nearly  all  Lingen's  force — 
and  about  twenty  prisoners." 

**  Is  Lingen  with  them  ? "  eagerly  asked  an  officer 
by  Sir  Richard's  side,  who  seemed  to  share  the 
command  with  him. 

"  Colonel  Kyrle — Captain  Trevor,*'  said  the  knight, 
introducing  them.  "I  suppose  you're  aware  WfV© 
taken  Monmouth  ?  ' 

U4 


AN  AMBUSCADiil.  335 

"  1  was  not ;  but  am  happy  to  hear  it.  Yes, 
Colonel,"  replying  to  Kyrle,  "  Lingen  is  with  them  ; 
coming  on   in  the  pursuit." 

Over  the  features  of  the  ex-Royaiist  came  an 
expression  of  almost  savage  joy,  as  one  who  had 
been  longing  to  confront  an  old  and  hated  foe,  and , 
knew  the  opportunity  near. 

**  Tm  glad  1  "  he  exclaimed,  as  in  soliloquy ;  then 
I  seemed  to  busy  himself  about  his  arms. 
■:      '*  His  presence  was  near   being  a  sorry   thing  for 
me — the  inhuman  scoundrel  1 "  rejoined  the  escaped 
prisoner. 

"How  so?" 

"  I  heard  him  give  the  order  to  fire  on  me,  as 
I  was  making  off." 

"And  they  did?" 

"  Yes.  Every  one  who  could  get  piece,  or  pistol, 
ready  in  time." 

"  That  explains  the  shots  we  heard,  Walwyn. 
Well,  young  sir,"  to  Trevor,  "you  seem  to  bear  a 
charmed  life.  But  we  must  back  into  ambush. 
You  take  the  right,  Dick  ;  let  me  look  to  the  left 
and  give  the  cue  to  fall  on,  I  ask  that  from  my 
better  knowing  the  ground." 

"  So  be  it  1 "  assented  Sir  Richard,  and  the  two 
commanders,  parting  right  and  left,  rode  back  a 
little  way  within  the  wood,  where  each  had  a  body 
of  horse  drawn  up,  and  ready  for  the  charge. 

The  conversation,  hurriedly  carried  on,  had  con- 
sumed but  a  few  seconds'  time ;  and  in  an  instant 
after  the  causeway  was  clear  again,  only  a  vidette 
left  under  cover  to  signal  the  approach  of  the 
pursuers.  Captain  Trevor,  of  course,  went  with 
his  colonel,  but  now  carrying  a  sword  and  pistols  ; 
supernumerary  weapons  which  had  been  found  for 
him  by  Sergeant  Wilde. 

A  profound  silence  succeeded ;  for  the  horses  of 


336  NO  quarter! 

the  Parliamentarians,  after  two  years*  campaigning, 
had  become  veterans  as  the  men  themselves,  and 
trained  to  keeping  still.  Not  a  neigh  uttered  ;  no 
noise  save  the  islight  tinkle  of  curb  or  bit,  and  an 
occasional  angry  stamp  at  bite  of  the  bree  fly.  But 
the  one  could  not  be  distinguished,  even  at  short 
distance,  amid  the  continuous  screeching  of  jays, 
and  oft-repeated  glu-glii-gluck  of  the  green  wood- 
pecker, whose  domain  was  being  intruded  on  ; 
while  the  other  might  be  mistaken  for  colts  at 
pasture. 

To  the  surprise  of  all  in  ambuscade,  the  pursuing 
party  appeared  to  be  coming  on  very  slowly  ;  and 
in  truth  was  it  so.  Two  reasons  retarded  them. 
Their  horses  were  not  Saladins,  and  the  best  of 
them  had  become  blown  in  their  gallop  against 
the  steep  acclivity  more  than  a  mile  in  length. 
But  the  riders  themselves  had  grown  discouraged. 
In  their  last  glimpse  got  of  the  fugitive  he  was 
so  far  ahead,  and  his  mount  showing  such  match- 
less speed,  it  seemed  idle  to  continue  the  chase. 
They  but  hoped  that  some  chance  party  of 
Scudamore's  men  from  Hereford  might  be  patrol- 
ling the  road  farther  on,  and  intercept  him.  So, 
instead  of  pressing  the  pursuit  with  ardour,  they 
lagged  on  it ;  toiling  up  the  steep  in  straggled  line, 
and  at  a  crawl. 

Some  twenty  of  the  best  horsed,  however,  had 
forged  a  long  distance  ahead  of  the  others,  who 
were  following  in  twos  and  threes,  with  wide 
intervals  between.  And  among  the  laggards  was 
Lingen,  instead  of  in  the  lead,  as  might  be  ex- 
pected in  the  commander  of  a  partisan  troop. 
Fond  of  display,  and  that  day  designing  exhibition 
of  it,  he  rode  a  charger  of  superb  appearance  ;  one 
of  the  sort  for  show,  not  work.  As  a  consequence, 
after  the   first  spurt  of  the   pursuit,  he  had   fallen 


AN   AMBUSCADE.  337 

hundreds  of  yards  behind,  and  was  half  inclined 
to  turn  round  and  ride  back  to  the  inn,  under 
pretence  of  looking  after  his  other  prisoners. 

But  there  was  no  going  back  for  those  who  had 
pushed  on,  nor  much  farther  forward.  Having 
surmounted  the  summit  of  the  pitch,  they  heard 
a  heavy  trampling  of  hoofs,  with  the  dreaded 
slogan,  **God  and  the  Parliament!"  and  saw  two 
large  bodies  of  horse,  one  on  each  flank,  simul- 
taneously closing  upon  them.  At  a  charging 
gallop  these  came  on,  so  quick .  the  surprised 
party  had  no  time  either  to  turn  back  or  make 
a  dash  onward,  ere  seeing  the  road  blocked  before 
and  behind. 

A  surround  complete  as  sudden,  accompanied  by 
the  demand  "  Surrender ! "  made  in  tone  of  deter- 
mination that  would  not  brook  refusal. 

Of  the  score  of  Cavaliers  so  challenged,  not  one 
had  the  heart  to  say  nay.  They  had  left  their 
courage  below  with  their  spilled  wine  cups,  and 
now  cried  *'  Quarter ! "  in  very  chorus,  delivering 
up  their  arms  without  striking  blow,  or  firing  shot. 

"Whereas  Harry  Lingen?"  cried  Kyrle,  spurring 
into  their  midst  with  drawn  sword.  "  I  don't  see 
his  face  among  you."  Adding,  with  a  sneer, 
"Such  a  valiant  leader  should  be  at  the  head 
of  his  men  !  " 

Then  fixing  on  one  he  knew  to  be  a  cornet  of 
Lingen's  Light  Horse,  he  vociferated, — 

**  Say  where  your  colonel  is,  sirrah !  or  I'll  run 
you  through  the  ribs." 

"Down  the  hill — behind  somewhere,"  stammered 
out  the  threatened  subaltern.  "  He  was  with  us 
when  we  commenced  the  pursuit." 

Riding  clear  of  the  crowd  Kyrle  glanced  inter- 
rogatively down  the  road.  To  see  the  tails  of 
It^o^ses  disappearing  round  a,  corner;    some    of  th^ 


33^^  NO   QUARTER  I 

pursuers,  who,  catching  sight  of  what  was  above^ 
had  made  about  face,  and  were  galloping  back. 

"  Let  us  after  them,  Walwyn  !  What  say  you  ? " 
hurriedly  proposed  Kyrle. 

"Just  what  I  was  thinking  of.  Trevor  tells 
me  most  of  their  prisoners  are  my  own  men, 
those  taken  at  Hollymead.  They  shall  be  rescued, 
whatever  the  risk." 

"  Not  much  risk  now,  I  fancy.  Lingen's  lot  are 
so  demoralized  they  won't  stand  a  charge.  We 
needn't  fear  following  them  up  to  the  gates  of 
Goodrich  Castle.  And  we  can  get  back  to 
Monmouth  that  way,  well  as  the  other." 

"That  way  we  go,  then  said  the  knight  deter- 
minedly ;  and  down  the  pitch  started  the  two 
colonels  with  their  respective  followers,  a  detail 
having  been  hastily  told  off  to  guard  the  prisoners 
just  taken. 

Meanwhile  the  Sheriff  had  been  balancing  be- 
tween advance  and  return.  Vexed  with  the  cause 
which  retarded  him,  he  was  vowing  he  would  never 
again  bestride  the  showy  brute,  when  he  saw 
several  of  his  men  coming  back  down  the  pitch  at 
breakneck  speed,  as  they  approached  calling  out, 
"  Treason  !     A  surprise  ! " 

"  Treason  !  What  mean  you  ? "  he  demanded, 
drawing  his  sword,  and  stopping  them  in  their 
headlong  flight.     "Are  you  mad,  fellows?" 

"  No,  Colonel ;  not  mad.  Some  one  has  betrayed 
us  into  an  ambuscade.  The  Roundheads  are  up 
the  hill ;   hundreds — thousands  of  them  I " 

"  Who  says  so  ?  " 

"We  saw  them.  Sir  Henry." 

"You  couldn't  have  seen  Roundheads.  There 
are  none  on  these  roads.  It  must  be  some  of 
Scudamore's  men  from  Hereford.  Fools  I  you'vq 
been  frightened  at  your  own  shadpw^," 


AK  AMBUSCADIS.  339 

"  But,  Colonel,  they've  taken  a  party  of  ours 
prisoners  ;  all  that  were  ahead  of  us.  We  heard 
the  *  Surrender!'  and  saw  them  surrounded." 

"  I  shall  see  it  myself  before  I  believe  it  About, 
and  on  with  me  !  " 

The  men  thus  commanded,  however  reluctant  to 
return  towards  the  summit,  knew  better  than  to  dis- 
obey. But  their  obedience  was  not  insisted  upon. 
In  the.  narrow  way,  ere  he  could  pass  to  place 
himself  at  their  head,  a  horseman  came  galloping 
from  below,  and  pulled  up  by  his  side.  A  courier 
with  horse  in  a  lather  of  sweat,  showing  he  must 
have  ridden  far  and  fast  But  the  slip  of  paper, 
hurriedly  drawn  from  his  doublet  and  handed  to 
the  Sheriff,  told  all. 

Unfolding  it,   he  read, — 

"Kyrle  has  betrayed  us.  Massey  in  Monmouth. 
Large  body  of  Horse — several  hundred — Walwyn's 
Forest  troop,  and  some  of  Kyrle's  old  hands 
with  the  traitor  himself,  gone  out  along  the  Here- 
ford road  this  morning  before  daybreak.  Destina- 
tion not  known.     Be  on  your  guard." 

The  informal  despatch,  which  showed  signs  of 
being  written  in  great  haste,  was  without  any 
signature.  None  was  needed  ;  the  bearer,  per- 
sonally known  to  Lingen,  giving  further  details 
vivd  voce ;  while  its  contents  too  truly  confirmed 
the  report  just  brought  by  the  soldiers  from  the 
other  side. 

Among  Cavaliers  Sir  Henry  Lingen  was  of  the 
bravest,  and  would  not  cry  back  from  any  en- 
counter with  fair  chances.  But  he  was  not  fool- 
hardy, nor  lacking  prudence  when  the  occasion 
called  for  it.  And  there  seemed  such  occasion 
now.  He  knew  some'ihing  of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn 
and  his  Foresters,  as  also  of  Kyrle  and  his  fol- 
lowing,   and    what    he    might    expect    from   both. 


340  NO  quarter! 

They  would  not  likely  be  out  that  way  unless  in 
strong  force.  Several  hundred,  the  despatch  said 
— pity  it  was  not  more  exact — while  his  own 
numbered  less  than  two.  Besides,  if  the  returning 
soldiers  were  not  mistaken,  twenty  of  them  had 
been  already  snapped  up ;  and  the  rest  would 
make  but  a  poor  fight,  if  they  stood  ground  at  all. 
He  rather  thought  they  would  not  now ;  and  so 
reflecting  reined  his  unwieldy  charger  round,  and 
rode  back  down  the  pitch,  at  a  much  better  pace 
than  he  had  ascended  it. 

Picking  up  all  stragglers  on  the  way,  he  meant 
doing  the  same  with  his  prisoners  left  at  the  inn. 
But  before  he  had  even  reached  it,  he  heard  hoof- 
strokes  thundering  down  the  hill  behind  in  a 
multitudinous  clatter,  that  bespoke  a  large  body  of 
horse  coming  close  upon  his  heels.  So  close,  he 
no  longer  thought  of  cumbering  himself  with 
prisoners,  but  swept  on  past  those  at  the  hostelry 
in  a  sauve  qui  peut  flight,  their  guards  going 
along,  and  leaving  them  there  in  a  state  of 
supreme  bewilderment. 

Not  long,  however,  till  they  understood  why 
they  had  been  so  abruptly  abandoned.  In  less 
than  five  minutes  after,  broke  upon  their  view  the 
banner  of  the  sword-stabbed  crown,  and  beneath 
it  coats  of  Lincoln  green,  with  hats  plumed  from 
the  tail  of  Chanticleer,  the  uniform  of  the  Forest 
troop — their  own. 

In  a  trice  they  were  freed  from  their  fastenings, 
and  armed  with  the  weapons  taken  from  the  party 
of  Cavaliers  that  had  been  caught  by  the  head  of 
the  pitch.  Riding  their  horses,  too,  after  a  quick 
exchange — in  short,  everything  reversed — then  away 
from  their  halting- place  with  cheers  and  at  charg- 
ing gallop,  no  longer  prisoners,  but  pursuers  ! 

Never  did  the  chances  and  changes  of  war  re- 


AN  AMBUSCADE.  34I 

telve  better  or  more  singular  illustration  than  upon 
that  autumn*s  nnorn  along  the  road  between  Acorn- 
Oury  and  Goodrich.  At  early  daybreak  a  Royalist 
{lost,  in  noisy  jubilance,  conducting  a  score  of 
dejected  captives  towards  Hereford  ;  and,  before 
the  sun  had  attained  meridian  height,  a  like  num- 
ber of  prisoners  going  in  the  opposite  direction, 
under  guard  of  Parliamentary  soldiers  ! 

Some  difference,  however,  in  the  mode  of  march 
and  rate  of  speed  :  the  former  leisurely  slow,  as  a 
triumphal  procession  ;  the  latter  a  hot,  eager  pur- 
suit that  permitted  no  tarrying  by  the  way.  Nor 
was  there  on  the  return  passage  either  jesting  or 
laughter ;  instead,  now  and  then  shouts  in  stern, 
angry  tone — the  demand,  *'  Surrender  !  "  as  some 
fleeing  Cavalier,  cursed  with  a  short-winded  horse, 
had  to  pull  up,  and  call  out  "Quarter!" 

So  on  to  the  gates  of  Goodrich  Castle,  into 
which  Linger),  malgrd  his  indifferent  mount,  con- 
trived to  enter,  quick  closing  them  behind. 

The  pursuit  could  go  no  farther,  nor  the  pur- 
suers make  entrance  after  him.  In  that  strong 
fortress  he  might  bid  defiance  to  cavalry — even 
the  best  artillery  of  the  time.  Famine  only  had 
he  to  fear. 

But  to  so  shut  him  up — so  humiliate  him — was 
a  triumph  for  Kyrle,  his  ancient  foe  ;  and  as  the 
latter  turned  away  from  the  defying  walls,  the 
smile  upon  his  face  told  how  greatly  it  gratified 
him.  A  revanche  he  had  gained  for  some  wrongs 
Lingen  had  done  his  father  ;  and,  now  that  he  was 
himself  to  rule  in  Monmouth,  he  had  hopes,  ere 
long,  to  make  a  real  revenge  of  it,  by  razing 
Goodrich  Casth  to  its  foundation  stones. 


CHAPTER    LI, 

IN   CAROUSAU 

•We'll  drink-drink, 
And  our  goblets  clink, 
Quaffing  the  blood  red  wine  ; 
The  wenches  we'll  toast, 
\^  And  the  Roundheads  we'll  roast, 

The  Croppies,  and  all  their  kind." 

*  A  CAPITAL  song !  And  right  well  youVe  sung 
it,  Sir  Thomas.     Herrlich  T 

"Your  Highness  compliments  me." 

"  Nein-nein.  But  who  composed  the  ditty  ?  It's 
new  to  me." 

"  Sir  John  Deriham.  He  who  wrote  the  verses 
about  Waller,  and  their  defeat  at  Roundway  Down — 

'  Great  William  the  Con 

So  fast  did  he  run, 
That  he  left  half  his  name  behind  him.' 

Your  Highness  may  remember  them  ? " 

*  Ha-ha-ha  !  That  do  I  ;  and  Sir  John  himself. 
A  true  Cavalier,  and  no  better  company  over  the 
cup.  But  come,  gentlemen  !  Let  us  act  up  to  the 
spirit  of  the  song.  Fill  goblets,  and  toast  the 
wenches ! " 

"  The  wenches  !  The  wenches  !  "  came  in  respon- 
sive echo  from  all  sides  of  the  table,  as  the  wine 
went  to  their  lips. 

No  sentiment  could  have  been  more  congenial  to 
those  who  had  been  listening  to  Colonel  Lunford's 


IN  CAROUSAL.  343 

song.  For  it  was  this  man  of  infamous  memory 
who  had  been  addressed  as  "  Sir  Thomas."  He 
had  late  received  knighthood  from  his  King ;  such 
being  the  sort  Kings  delight  to  honour,  now  as 
then.  And  among  the  convives  was  a  King's  son, 
the  embryo  "Merry  Monarch/'  taking  lessons  in 
that  reprobacy  he  afterwards  practised  to  the 
bestrumpetting  England  from  lordly  palace  to 
lowly  cot. 

It  was  not  he,  however,  who  had  complimented 
Lunsford  on  his  vocal  abilities  ;  the  "  Highness " 
being  his  cousin.  Prince  Rupert,  in  whose  quarters 
they  were  carousing ;  the  place  Bristol ;  the  time 
some  weeks  subsequent  to  the  taking  of  Monmouth 
by  Massey.  But  the  occasion  which  had  called 
them  together  was  to  celebrate  a  success  on  the 
opposite  side ;  its  re-capture  by  the  Royalists,  for 
Monmouth  had  been  re-taken.  A  sad  mischance 
for  the  Parliamentarians ;  through  no  fault  of  Kyrle, 
who,  on  active  duty,  was  away  from  it,  but  the 
lache  of  one  Major  Throgmorton,  left  in  temporary 
charge. 

Riotous  with  delight  were  they  assembled 
within  Rupert's  quarters.  They  had  that  day 
received  the  welcome  intelligence,  and  were  in 
spirit  for  unrestrained  rejoicing.  Ever  since  Mar- 
ston  Moor  the  King's  cause  had  been  suffering 
reverses ;  once  more  the  tide  seemed  turning  in 
its  favour. 

But  nothing  of  war  occupied  their  thoughts  now ; 
the  victory  on  the  Wye  had  been  talked  over,  the 
victors  toasted,  and  the  subject  dismissed  for  one 
always  uppermost  at  a  Cavalier  carousal. 

Several  songs  had  been  already  sung,  but  that  of 
Lunsford — so  indecent  that  only  the  chorus  cfan 
be  here  given — tickled  the  fancies  of  all,  and  an 
encore  was  demanded.     A  demand  with  which  the 


344  ^0  QUARTER 

festive  Lunsford  readily  complied,  and  the  ribald 
refrain  once   more  received   uproarious  plaudits. 

"  Now,  gentlemen ! "  said  the  host,  on  silence 
being  restored,  *'fill  again!  We've  but  toasted 
the  wenches  in  a  general  way.  Vm  going  to 
propose  one  in  particular,  whom  you'll  all  be  eager 
to  honour.  A  fascinating  damsel,  who,  if  Fm  not 
mistaken,  Cousin  Charles,  has  put  a  spell  upon 
your  young  heart." 

**  Ha-ha  1 "  smirked  the  precocious  reprobate,  in 
a  semi-protesting  way.  "  You  are  mistaken,  coz. 
None  of  womankind  can  do  that." 

"Ah!  if  your  Royal  Highness  has  escaped  her 
witcheries,  you're  one  of  the  rare  exceptions.  Mein 
Gott  I  she  has  turned  the  heads  of  more  than  half 
my  young  officers,  and  commands  them  as  much 
as  I  do  myself.  Well,  she's  worthy  of  obedience, 
if  beauty  has  the  right  to  rule,  and  we  Cavaliers 
cannot  deny  it  that."  So  let  us  drink  to  her!" 

By  this  all  had  replenished  their  cups,  and  were 
waiting  to  hear  the  name  of  her  whose  charms 
were  so  extolled  by  their  princely  host.  A  good 
many  could  guess  ;  and  more  than  one  listened  to 
what  he  had  been  saying  with  a  feeling  of  un- 
pleasantness. For  he  but  spoke  the  truth  about 
the  fascinations  of  a  certain  lady,  and  more  than 
on@  present  had  felt  their  spell  to  the  surrender 
of  hearts.  Not  from  fois  came  their  pain,  however, 
but  from  whisperings  that  Rupert  himself  had  set 
covetous  eyes  on  the  lady  in  question,  and  well 
knew  they  what  that  meant — a  thing  fatal  to  their 
own  aspirations.  Where  the  sun  deigns  to  shine 
the  satellite  stars  have  to  suffer  eclipse. 

And  just  as  these  jealous  subordinates  antici- 
pated, the  damsel  about  to  be  toasted  was 
Mademoiselle  Lalande. 

"  Clarisse   Lalande ! "   at  length    called     out    the 


IN  CAROUSAL.  34$ 

Prince,  adding — "  To  the  bottom  of  your  cups, 
gentlemen  !" 

And  to  the  bottom  of  their  cups  drank  they, 
honouring  the  toast  with  a  cheer,  in  which  might 
be  detected  some  tone  of  irony. 

The  usual  brief  interval  of  silence,  as  lull  in  the 
midst  of  storm,  was  succeeded  by  a  buzz  of  con- 
versation, not  about  any  common  or  general 
subject,  but  carried  on  by  separate  groups,  and  in 
dialogue  between  individuals. 

Into  this  last  had  entered  two  gentlemen,  who 
sate  near  the  head  of  the  table ;  one  in  civilian 
garb,  the  other  wearing  the  uniform  of  a  cavalry 
officer.  Both  were  men  of  middle  age,  the  officer 
somewhat  the  older ;  while  a  certain  gravity  of 
aspect  distinguished  him  from  the  gay  roysterers 
around.  But  for  the  insignia  on  his  dress,  he  would 
have  looked  more  like  Parliamentarian  than  Royalist. 

The  demeanour  of  the  civilian  was  also  of  the 
sober  kind,  and  marked  by  an  air  of  distinction 
which  proclaimed  him  a  somebody  of  superior  rank. 

"  *Tis  no  more  than  the  truth,"  he  said,  turning 
to  the  officer,  after  the  toast  had  been  disposed  of. 
**  The  Creole  is  a  fascinating  creature.  Don*t  you 
think  so.  Major  Grenville?" 

"  I  do,  my  Lord.  Her  fascination  is  admitted  by 
all.  But,  perhaps,  some  of  it  is  due  to  her  rather 
free  manners.  With  a  little  more  modesty  she 
might  not  appear  so  attractive — certainly  would 
not  to  most  of  the  present  company." 

"  Ah  !  true.     There's  something  in  that." 

•'  A  good  deal,  my  Lord  ;  despite  the  old  adage. 
For  modesty  is  a  quality  that  does  not  adorn  Made- 
moi  «lle  Lalande.  A  pity,  too!  The  want  of  it 
may  ruin  her  reputation,  if  it  hasn't  done  that 
already." 

"  What  a  moralist  you   are,  Major !     Your  ideas 


34^  NO  QUARTER! 

have  a  strong  taint  of  Puritanism.  I  hope  you're 
not  going  to  turn  your  back  on  us  gay  Cavaliers. 
Ha-ha-ha!" 

The  laugh  told  his  Lordship  to  be  in  jest.  He 
knew  Major  Grenville  to  be  a  devoted  adherent  of 
the  King,  else  he  would  not  have  bantered  him. 

"  But,"  he  continued,  reverting  to  the  topic  with 
which  they  started,  "morals  apart,  I've  never  seen 
a  thing  to  give  one  such  an  idea  of  woman's  power 
as  she  does— in  that  •  curious  Indian  dance.  'Tis 
a  wonderful  picture,  or  rather  embodiment,  of 
feminine  voluptuousness." 

"All   that   I    admit,"    returned   the   Major.     "But 
for   true    womanly   grace  —  ay,   abandon,    but    of   a 
very   different   kind — you  should   see   a   cousin   she 
has,    a   real   English    girl,   or,   to    speak   more  coi 
rectly,  Welsh." 

"All  the  same.  But  who  is  the  cousin  so 
highly  endowed  } " 

"A  Miss  Powell,  the  daughter  of  a  wealthy 
gentleman,  who,  Fm  sorry  to  say,  is  not  on  our 
side  ;   instead,  one  of  our  bitterest  enemies." 

"  Might  you  mean  Master  Ambrose  Powell,  of 
Hollymead  House,  up  in  the  Forest  of  Dean  ? " 

"  Th5  same.  Your  Lordship  seems  to  know 
him  ?  " 

"  Certainly  I  do,  or  did  ;  for  it's  several  years 
since  I've  seen  him.  But  he  had  two  daughters 
then,  Sabrlna  and  Vaga.  One  is  not  likely  to 
forget  the  names.     Are  not  both  still  living.?" 

"Oh  yes." 

"  The  elder,  Sabrina,  was  nearly  grown  up  when 
I  saw  them  last,  the  other  but  a  slip ;  bu*:  both 
promised  to  be  great  beauties." 

"  If  your  Lordship  saw  them  now,  you'd  say 
the  promise  has  been  kept.  They  are  that,  be 
yond  cavil  or  question." 


nIN   CAROUSAL.  347 

"But  from  what  youVe  said,  I  take  it  you  re- 
gard one  of  them  as  superior  to  the  othen 
Which,  may  I  ask  ?  At  a  guess  Td  say  SabVina. 
As  a  girl  I  liked  her  looks  best ;  came  near  liking 
them  too  well.     Ha-ha !     Have  I  guessed  correctly  ?" 

"  The  reverse,  my  Lord ;  that  is,  according  to 
my  ide^s  of  beauty.'* 

"Then  you  award  the  palm  to  Vaga.?'* 

"Decidedly." 

"  Well,  Major,  I  won't  question  your  judgment, 
as  I  can't  till  I've  seen  the  sisters  again.  No 
doubt  they  will  be  much  changed  since  I  had 
the  pleasure  of  last  meeting  them.  But  they 
should  now  be  of  an  age  to  get  married; 
Sabrina  certainly.     Is  there  no  talk  of  that?" 

**  There  is,  my  Lord." 

"  Regarding  which  ?  " 

"  Regarding  both." 

**Ah!     And  who  the  respective  favourites?" 

"  Say  respective  financiSy  your  Lordship.  They're 
engaged.     So  report  has  it." 

"And  who  are  to  be  the  Benedicts?  Who  is 
Mistress  Sabrina  to  make  happy  ?  " 

"  Sir  Richard  Walwyn,  'tis  said." 

**Dick 'Walwyn,  indeed!  An  old  classmate  of 
mine  at  Oxford.  Well,  she  might  do  worse. 
And  the  little  yellow-haired  sprout.?  She  was  a 
bright  blonde,  I  remember,  with  wonderful  tresses, 
like  a  Danae's  shower.  Who's  to  be  the  possessor 
of  all  that  auriferous  wealth  ?  " 

"  One  of  the  Trevors." 

"There's  one  of  them  on  the  Prince's  staff,  I 
understand.     Is  it  he  ?  " 

"  No ;  a  cousin  —  son  of  Sir  William  of  Aber- 
gavenny." 

*"  What !  the  young  stripling  who  used  to  be 
at  Court — one  of  the  gentlemen  ushers  ? " 


348  NO  QUARTER  1 

"The  same,  my  Lord." 

"Quite  an  Adonis  he;  so  the  Queen  thought, 
'twas  said.  Mistress  Vaga  must  have  all  the 
fascinations  you  credit  her  with  to  have  made 
conquest  of  him.     But  he*s  not  with  the  King  now  ? " 

"  No ;  nor  on  the  King's  side  neither.  He 
turned  coat,  and  took  service  under  the  Parlia- 
ment, in  Walwyn's  troop  of  Horse.  *Tis  supposed 
the  Danae*s  shower  your  lordship  speaks  of  had 
a  good  deal  to  do  with  his  conversion.'* 

"  Very  likely  that.  Cupid's  a  powerful  pro- 
selytiser.  Well,  I  should  like  to  see  the  Powell 
girls  again ;  their  father  too,  for  old  friendship's 
sake.     By  the  way,  where  are  they  ? " 

"I  am  not  well  informed  about  their  present 
whereabouts.  Some  twelve  months  ago  they 
were  here  in  Bristol,  staying  at  Montserrat 
House  .with  Madame,  his  sister.  When  we  took 
the  place,  Master  Ambrose  thought  it  wise  to  move 
away  from  it,  for  reasons  easily  understood.  He 
went  hence  to  Gloucester,  where,  I  believe,  he 
has  been  residing  ever  since — up  till  within  the 
last  few  days.  Likely  they're  at  HoUymead  just 
now ;  at  least  I  heard  of  Powell  having  returned 
thither,  thinking  he  would  be  safe  with  Monmouth 
in  Massey's  hands.  Since  it  isn't  any  longer,  he 
may  move  back  to  Gloucester ;  and  the  sooner  the 
better,  I  should  say.  He  has  sadly  com  romised 
himself  by  acting  on  one  of  the  Parliament's 
Committees ;  and  some  of  ours  will  show  him 
but  slight  consideration." 

**  Indeed,  I  should  be  sorry  if  any  serious  mis- 
fortune befell  him,  or  his.  An  odd  sort  of  man 
with  mistaken  views  politically  ;  still  a  man  of 
sterling  good  qualities.  I  hope.  Major,  he  may 
not  be  among  the  many  victims  this  unnatural 
war  is  claiming  all  over  the  land." 


IN  CAROUSAL.  349 

"  I  echo  that  hope,  my  Lord." 

And  with  these  humane  sentiments  their  dia- 
logue came  to  a  close,  so  far  as  that  subject  was 
concerned. 

Two  men  had  been  listening  to  it  with  eager 
ears — Prince  Rupert  and  Colonel  Lunsford,  who 
sate  by  his  side.  Amidst  the  clinking  of  goblets, 
and  the  jarring 'din  of  many  voices,  they  could 
not  hear  it  all ;  still  enough  to  make  out  its  gene- 
ral purport 

They  seemed  especially  interested  when  the 
Major  spoke  of  the  Powells  having  returned  to 
Hollymead.  It  was  news  to  them ;  glad  news 
for  a  certain  reason.  Often  since  that  morning 
after  the  surrender  of  Bristol  had  the  princely 
voluptuary  given  thought  to  the  "  bit  of  saucy 
sweetness,  with  cheeks  all  roses,"  he  had  seen 
passing  out  of  its  gates  for  Gloucester.  Just  as 
at  first  sight  her  ^sister  had  caught  the  fancy  of" 
the  brutal  Lunsford,  so  had  she  caught  his ;  and 
the  impression  still  remained,  despite  a  succession 
of  amours  and  love  escapades,  with  high  and  low, 
since. 

In  more  than  one  of  his  marauds  through  the 
Forest  of  Dean,  Lunsford  along  with  him,  he  had 
paid  visit  to  Hollymead  House ;  only  to  find  it 
untenanted,  save  by  caretakers — the  family  still  in 
the  city  of  Gloucester.  Many  the  curse  hurled 
he,  and  his  infamous  underling,  at  that  same  city 
of  Gloucester ;  where  the  Cavalier  who  had  not 
cursed  it  ? 

Overjoyed,  then,  were  the  two  by  what  had 
just  reached  their  ears,  the  Prince  interrogating 
in  undertone, — 

"  You  hear  that,  Lunsford  ?  " 

"I  do,  your  Highness." 
Gott  set  dank!    Just  what   weVe  been  wishing 


k 


350  NO  quarter! 

and  waiting  for.  We  may  now  visit  Hollymead, 
with  fair  hope  of  the  sw^eet  frduleins  being-  there 
to  receive  us.  Then,  mein  Colonel,  then  —  nous 
verrons  !  '* 

After  delivering  himself  in  this  polyglot  fashion, 
he  caught  hold  of  his  goblet,  and  clinking  it 
against  that  of  Lunsford,  said  in  a  confidential 
whisper, — 

"  We  drink  to  our  success,  Sir  Thomas !  ** 
There  had  been  a  third  listener  to  the  dialogue 
between  Major  Grenville  and  the  nobleman,  who 
also  overheard  the  words  spoken  by  Rupert  to 
the  new-made  knight.  But,  instead  of  gladdening, 
the  first  gave  him  pain ;  which  the  last  inten- 
sified to  very  bitterness.  His  name  made  known, 
the  reason  will  be  divined.  For  it  was  Reginald 
Trevor. 


CHAPTER  LII. 

AT     HOME     AGAIN. 

There  was  rejoicing  at  Ruardean.  After  two 
years  of  forced  absence,  the  master  of  Hollymead 
had  returned  to  his  ancestral  home,  and  the  faces 
of  his  beautiful  daughters  once  more  gladdened  the 
eyes  of  the  villagers. 

Out  of  the  world's  way  as  was  this  quaint  little 
place,  it  too  had  suffered  the  severities  of  the  war. 
More  than  one  visit  had  been  paid  to  it  by  patrols 
and  scouting  parties  of  the  Royalist  soldiery ; 
which  meant  very  much  the  same  as  if  the  visitors 
had  been  very  bandits.  They  made  free  with 
everything  they  could  lay  hands  on  worth  the 
trouble  of  taking — goods,  apparel,  furniture,  even 
to  the  most  cherished  household  goods ;  invading 
the  family  sanctuary,  and  at  each  re-appearance 
stripping  it  cleaner  and  cleaner. 

Ruardean  had,  indeed,  become  an  impoverished 
place,  as  all  the  rural  district  around.  The 
"  chimney  tapestry "  had  disappeared  from  the 
farmer's  kitchen,  neither  flitch  nor  ham  to  be  seen 
in  it ;  empty  his  pigsties,  unstocked  his  pastures  ; 
and  if  a  horse  remained  in  his  stable  it  was  one 
no  Cavalier  would  care  to  bestride.  The  King's 
Commissioners  of  Array  had  requisitioned  all, 
calling  it  a  purchase,  and  paying  with  bits  of 
stamped  paper,  which  the  reluctant  vendor  knew 
to   be   worth  just   nothing.     But,   nolens  voletis^  bQ 


352  NO  QUARTER  I 

must  accept  it,  or  take  the  alternative,  sure  of  being 
made  severe  for  him. 

So  afflicted  ever  since  the  surrender  of  Bristol 
to  Rupert,  no  wonder  the  Forest  people  had  grown 
a-weary  of  the  war,  and  were  glad  when  they  heard 
of  Wintour's  defeat  at  Beachley,  and  soon  after 
of  Monmouth  being  taken  by  the  Parliamentarians, 
It  seemed  earnest  of  a  coming  peace ;  while  to 
the  people  of  the  Ruardean  district  Ambrose 
Powell  once  more  appearing  among  them  was 
like  the  confirmation  of  it. 

Something  besides  gave  them  security,  for  the 
time  at  least.  A  squadron  of  horse  had  taken  up 
quarters  in  their  village ;  not  the  freebooting 
Cavaliers,  bullying  and  fleecing  them  ;  but  soldiers 
who  treated  them  kindly,  paid  full  price  for  every- 
thing, in  short,  behaved  to  them  as  friends  and 
protectors.  For  many  of  them  were  their  friends 
their  own  relatives,  the  body  of  horse  being  that 
commanded  by  Colonel  Walwyn,  with  Rob  Wilde 
as  its  head  sergeant. 

Alike  secure  felt  the  ladies  in  Hollymead  House, 
safe  as  within  Gloucester.  How  could  it  be  other- 
wise, with  Sir  Richard  having  his  headquarters  there 
and  Eustace  Trevor  under  the  same  roof.? 

The  happy  times  seemed  to  have  returned  ;  and 
the  sisters,  after  their  long  irksome  residence  in 
walled  towns,  more  than  ever  enjoyed  that  country 
life,  to  which  from  earliest  years  they  had  been 
accustomed. 

And  once  again  went  they  out  hawking,  with 
the  same  cast  of  peregrines  and  the  same  little 
merlin.  For  Van  Dorn,  living  in  a  sequestered 
spot,  and  unaffected  by  the  events  of  the  war,  had 
kept  the  falcons  up  to  their  training. 

Once  more  to  the  marsh  at  the  base  of  Ruardean 
Hill,   the   party  almost   identic?^l    with   that    which 


At  HOME  AGAIN.  3S3 

had  repaired  thither  two  years  before.  And  as 
before  rang  out  the  falconer's  hoohu-ha-ha-ha  I  and 
shrill  whistle,  as  a  heron  rose  up  from  the  sedge  ; 
again  a  white  heron,  the  great  egret !  Singular 
coincidence,  and  strangely  gratifying  to  the  fair 
owner  of  the  peregrines,  for  she  especially  wanted 
an  egret.  How  she  watched  as  it  made  for  upper 
air,  with  the  falcons  doing  their  best  to  mount 
above  it ;  watched  with  eager,  anxious  eyes,  fearing 
it  might  get  away.  Not  that  she  was  cruel,  only 
just  then  she  so  desired  to  have  a  white  heron  ; 
would  give  anything  for  one. 

She  did  not  need  to  have  a  fear.  Van  Dom  had 
done  his  duty  by  the  hawks,  and  the  chased  bird 
had  no  chance  of  escaping.  Soon  its  pursuers  were 
seen  above  it,  with  spread  trains  and  quivering 
sails  ;  then  one  stooped^  rakedy  and  rose  over  again  ; 
while  the  other  stooped  to  bind ;  both  ere  long 
becoming  bound ;  when  all  three  birds  came  flutter- 
ing back  to  earth. 

With  triumphant  "  whoop  1 "  the  falconer  pro- 
nounced it  a  kill ;  but  this  time,  seemingly  without 
being  told,  he  plucked  out  the  tail  coverts,  and 
handed  them  to  his  young  mistress.  Days  before, 
however,  Van  Dorn  had  received  injunctions  to 
procure  such  if  possible.  There  was  a  hat  that 
wanted  a  plume. 

"To  replace  that  you  lost,  dear  Eustace/*  she 
said,  passing  them  over  to  him. 

**  Tis  so  good  of  you  to  think  of  it,  darling ! " 

How  different  their  mode  of  addressing  one 
another  from  the  time  when  they  were  last  upon 
that  spot !  No  painstaking  coyness  now  ;  but  heart 
knowing  heart,  troth  plighted,  and  loves  mutually 
reliant. 

"  I  shall  take  better  care  of  this  one,"  he  added, 
adjusting  the  feathers  into  a  panache.     "  Never  man 

A  A 


354  NO  QUARTER  1 

sadder  than  I  when  the  other  was  taken  from  me; 
For  I  feared  it  would  be  the  loss  of  what  I  far 
more  valued." 

"Your  life.  Ah!  so  feared  I  when  I  heard  you 
were  wounded " 

**  No,  not  my  life,"  he  said,  interrupting.  "  Some- 
thing besides." 

*'  What  besides  ?  " 

"Your  love,  Vaga ;  at  least  your  esteem." 

"  Eustace  !     How  could  you  think  that  ? " 

"  From  having  lost  my  own,  along  with  my 
character  as  a  soldier.  To  be  taken  as  in  a 
trap." 

"  Never  that,  dearest !  All  knew  there  was 
treason.  If  yota  were  taken  so  might  a  lion,  with 
such  numbers  against  you.  And  how  you  delivered 
yourself!  " 

She  had  learnt  all  the  particulars  of  his  escape 
— a  deed  of  daring  to  be  proud  of  And  proud 
was  she  of  it. 

'*  Do  you  know,  Eustace,"  she  continued,  without 
waiting  his  rejoinder,  "  that  you  spared  me  a 
journey,  and  perhaps  some  humiliation.'*" 

**  A  journey !     Whither  ?  " 

"  To  Goodrich  Castle  first ;  and  it  might  have 
been  anywhere  after.*' 

"But  why?" 

"  To  throw  myself  at  Sir  Henry  Lingen's  feet, 
and  crave  mercy  for  you." 

"That  would  have  been  humiliation  indeed, 
darling.  And  Tm  glad  that  chance  hindered  you 
from  it." 

"  Chance !    No  love  ;  your  courage  did  it,  and " 

"My  horses's  heels,  rather  say.  But  for  them  I 
should  not  be  here." 

He  was  upon  that  horse's  back  then;  she  on  a 
palfrey  by  his  side. 


AT  HOME  AGAIN.  355 

"Noble  Saladin!"  she  exclaimed,  drawing  closer, 
and  passing  her  gloved  hand  caressingly  over  his 
arched  neck.  "  Dear,  good  Saladin  !  If  you  but 
knew  how  grateful  I  am ! " 

Saladin  did  seem  to  know,  as  in  soft,  gentle 
neighing  he  turned  his  head  round  to  acknowledge 
the  caress. 

A  fair  picture  these  betrothed  lovers  formed  as 
they  sate  in  their  saddles  under  the  greenwood 
tree.  Some  change  was  there  in  them  since  they 
had  been  there  before.  He  handsome  as  ever, 
perhaps  handsomer.  His  cheeks  embrowned  with 
two  years*  campaigning,  his  figure  braced  to  a 
terser,  firmer  manhood ;  on  Saladin's  back  he  seemed 
the  personification  of  a  young  crusader  just  returned 
from  the  Holy  Wars. 

She  lovelier  than  of  erst,  if  that  were  possible. 
A  woman  now,  her  girlhood's  beauty  had  done  all 
Major  Grenville  said  of  it,  and  more.  Sager  had 
she  grown,  made  so  by  the  vicissitudes  and  trials 
of  the  time ;  and  it  became  her.  Not  now  clapped 
she  her  hands,  and  echoed  the  falconer's  "whoop!" 
when  the  hawks  struck  their  quarry  down.  In- 
stead, took  it  all  quietly  ;  so  different  from  former 
days  I 

But  there  was  another  cause  now  sobering, 
almost  saddening,  her,  one  which  affected  both. 
The  war  was  not  yet  at  an  end.  At  any  hour, 
any  moment,  might  come  a  summons  which  would 
again  separate  them,  perchance  never  more  to 
meet!  In  that  tranquil  sylvan  scene  they  felt  as 
on  the  deck  of  a  storm-tossed,  wreck-threatened 
ship,  in  the  midst  of  angry  ocean  I  Cruel  war,  to 
beget  such  reflections — such  fears! 

And,  alas  I  they  were  realized  almost  on  the 
instant  Following  the  old  course,  the  hawking 
party  had  ascended   to  the  summit  of  the  hill   to 


3s6  NO  quarter! 

give  the  merlin  its  turn.  The  game  of  its  pursuit, 
more  plentiful,  was  easily  foimd  and  flushed,  so 
that  soon  the  courageous  creature  made  a  kill — a 
landrail  the  quarry. 

But  ere  it  could  be  cast  off  for  a  second  flight, 
just  as  once  before,  the  sport  was  interrupted  by, 
their  seeing  a  horseman  on  the  opposite  hill 
coming  down  the  road  from  the  Wilderness  to 
Drybrook. 

He  might  not  have  been  noticed  but  for  the 
pace,  which  was  a  rapid  gallop.  This  down  the 
steep  declivity  told  of  some  pressing  purpose,  while 
the  sun's  glitter  upon  arms  and  accoutrements 
proclaimed  him  a  soldier. 

More  definite  was  the  knowledge  got  of  him 
through  a  telescope,  which  one  of  the  attendants 
carried.  Glancing  through  it,  Sir  Richard  recog- 
nised the  uniform  of  a  Parliamentarian  dragoon — 
one  of  Massey's  own  regiment.  Coming  that  way, 
and  at  such  a  speed,  the  man  must  be  a  messenger 
with  despatches;   and    for  whom  but  himself? 

Separating  from  his  party,  and  taking  Hubert 
with  him,  the  knight  trotted  off  to  the  nearest 
point  where  the  Ruardean  road  passed  over  the 
shoulder  of  the  hill,  there  halting  till  the  dragoon 
should  come  up.  Nor  had  he  long  to  wait.  As 
conjectured,  the  man  was  a  messenger,  bearing  a 
despatch  that  called  for  all  haste  in  the  delivery, 
and  therefore  came  galloping  up  the  slope  without 
lessening  his  pace.  He  seemed  some  little  dis- 
concerted at  seeing  two  horsemen  drawn  up  on  the 
road  before  him,  but  a  word  from  Sir  Richard  ( 
reassured  him,  as  he  perceived  it  was  the  knight 
himself. 

As  the  despatch  was  for  Sir  Richard,  this  brought 
his  gallop  to  an  end  ;  and,  drawing  up,  he  handed 
over  the  document,  simply  saying — 


AT  HOME  AGAIN.  357 

"From  Governor  Massey,   Colonel.** 
Addressed  "  Colonel  Walwyn/'  it  read, — 

Gerrard  has  slipped  through  out  of  South 
Wales,  by  Worcester,  and  now  en  7'oute  to  join  the 
King  at  Oxford.  Tve  got  orders  from  the  Com- 
mittee to  march  out  and  intercept  him,  if  possible 
at  Evesham,  or  before  he  can  cross  the  Cotswolds. 
I  shall  want  every  man  of  my  command.  So  draw 
off  from  the  Ruardean,  for  Gloucester,  and  rein- 
force its  garrison.  Start  soon  as  you  get  this— 
lose  not  a  moment      Time  is  pressing. 

**  E.  Massey." 

When  Sir  Richard  returned  to  the  hawking 
party  his  hurried  manner,  with  the  serious  expres- 
sion upon  his  features,  admonished  Vaga  Powell 
that  her  presentiment  was  on  the  eve  of  being  ful- 
filled. Sure  was  she  of  it  on  hearing  his  answer 
to  Sabrina,  who  had  anxiously  questioned  him  on 
his  coming  up. 

**  Yes,  dearest  I  A  courier  from  Massey  at 
Gloucester.  I'm  commanded  to  proceed  thither  in 
all  haste.      We  must  home." 

And  home  went  they  to  Hollymead,  hurriedly 
as  once  before.  But  not  to  stay  there  ;  only  to 
leave  the  ladies  within  a  few  minutes  in  getting 
ready  for  the  "route."  Then  back  down  to  Ruar- 
dean to  order  the  *^  Assembly "  sounded ;  soon 
after  "  Boots  and  saddles  "  ;  in  fine,  the  **  Forward, 
march !  '*  and  before  the  sun  had  sunk  over  the 
lar  Hatteral  Hills,  the  sequestered  village  had  re- 
sumed its  wonted  tranquillity,  not  a  soldier  to  be 
seen  in  its  streets^  nor  anywhere  round  it 


CHAPTER  LIIL 

AGAIN   PRESENTIMENTS. 

**  Don't    you   wish    we    were  back   in    Gloucester, 

Sab  ? " 

"Why  wish  that,  Vag  ?  " 

"  It's  so  lonely  here." 

**  How  youVe  changed,  and  in  so  short  a  time ! 
While  in  the  city  you  were  all  longings  for  the 
country  and  now " 

**  Now  I   long  to   get  back  to  the  city." 

**  The  prosaic  city  of  Gloucester,  too ! " 

"  Even  so.  And  am  sorry  we  ever  came  away 
from  it." 

"You've  got  yourself  to  blame.  Father  was  all 
against  it,  you  know,  and  only  yielded  to  your 
solicitations.  As  you're  his  favourite  he  couldn't 
refuse  you." 

"But  you  approved  of  it  yourself,  for  another 
reason." 

Sabrina  had  approved  of  it  for  another  reason 
thus  hinted  at.  After  the  taking  of  Monmouth 
by  the  Parliamentarians,  Sir  Richard  Walwyn  had 
orders  to  keep  to  the  Hereford  side  of  the  Forest 
and  guard  the  approaches  in  that  direction.  Hence 
his  having  his  Horse  quartered  at  Ruardean,  and 
hence  the  desire  of  the  sisters  to  be  back  at  Holly 
mead  House.  Now  that  he  was  gone  to  Gloucester 
— so   unexpectedly  summoned  thither — all  was  dif- 

358 


AGAIN   PRESENTIMENTS.  359 

ferent,  and  to  Vaga  the  country  life  she  had  so 
enthusiastically  praised  seemed  no  longer  delightful. 

"  Well,  Vag,  we're  here  now,  and  must  make 
the  best  of  it.  Though  I  confess  to  feeling  it  a 
little  lonely  myself.  I  wish  father  had  taken 
Richard's  advice." 

At  his  hurried  departure  Colonel  Walwyn  had 
counselled  their  leaving  HoUymead,  and  going 
back  to  reside  at  Gloucester,  if  not  at  once,  soon 
as  the  removal  could  be  conveniently  made.  The 
knight,  without  wishing  unnecessarily  to  alarm 
them,  had  yet  some  apprehensions  about  their 
safety  in  that  remote  place.  But  they  were  not 
shared  in  by  his  intended  father-in-law,  who, 
although  not  absolutely  rejecting  the  advice,  still 
delayed  following  it.  So  secure  felt  he  that,  even 
on  the  very  day  when  Sabrina  was  speaking  of  it, 
he  had  himself  gone  to  Gloucester,  on  Com- 
mittee business,  and  left  his  daughters  at  Holly- 
mead  alone. 

Vaga  echoed  her  sister's  wish,  then  added, — 

**  It  may  be  worse  than  lonely.  Don't  you  think 
there's  some  danger?" 

«  Oh,  no !     What  danger  ?  " 

"  Why,  from  the  enemy — the  King's  people." 

**jThere  are  none  nearer  than  Bristol  and  Hereford." 

"You  forget    Goodrich  Castle.^" 

"No,  I  don't.  But  with  Monmouth  in  the 
hands  of  our  soldiers  the  Goodrich  garrison  will 
have  enough  to  do  taking  care  of  itself,  without 
troubling  us." 

Monmouth  had  not  yet  been  retaken  by  the 
Royalists ;  at  least  no  word  of  that  had  reached 
HoUymead   House. 

"Besides,"  she  continued.  "Sir  Henry  Lingen 
would  not  likely  molest  us.  You  remember  before 
the  war  he  was  very  niuch  father's  friend,  a,nd -*" 


360  NO  quarter! 

"And  before  he  was  married  very  much  yoursj/' 
interpolated  the  younger  sister,  with  a  glance  of 
peculiar  significance.  "  I  remember  that  too.  For 
the  which  reason  he  might  be  the  very  man  to 
molest  us.  There's  such  a  thing  as  spitefulness, 
and  he  could  scarce  be  blamed  for  feeling  it  a 
little." 

"  T'sh,  Vaga !  Don't  say  such  silly  things. 
There  never  was  aught  between  Sir  Henry  and 
myself,  nor  any  reason  for  his  being  spiteful  now. 
We  have  nothing  to  apprehend  from  that  quarter." 

"  Still  we  may  from  some  other." 

"  What  other  are  you  thinking  of  ?  " 

"  Not  any  in  particular.  Only  a  vague  sense 
of  somebody — a  foreboding — as  when  we  were  out 
hawking,  just  before  that  courier  arrived.  I  had 
the  same  feeling  then,  and  it  came  true." 

"  Admitting  it  did,  what  evil  came  of  it  ?  None  ; 
only  an  ordinary  event,  Richard  and  Eustace  being 
separated  from  us.  So  long  as  the  war  lasts  we 
must  expect  1  that,  and  be  patiently  resigned  to 
it" 

Though  sager  grown,  Vaga  was  still  not  equal 
to  the  strain  of  any  prolonged  resignation.  Of  a 
subtle,  nervous  nature,  she  was  easily  affected  by 
signs  and  omens,  felt  presentiments  and  had  belief 
in  them.  One  was  upon  her  at  this  same  moment, 
and  in  an  instant  after  she  saw  that  which  seemed 
likely  to  justify  it. 

"  Look  !  "  she  cried  ;  "look  yonder !  " 

They  were  in  the  withdrawing  room,  having 
entered  it  after  eating  breakfast,  she  herself  stand- 
ing at  one  of  the  windows,  with  eyes  bent  down 
the  long  avenue.  What  had  elicited  her  exclama- 
tion was  a  figure  that,  having  passed  inside  the 
park  gates,  was  coming  on  for  the  house.  A 
>yonian,   but  of   man's   stature,   and   by  this   easily 


AGAIN   PRESENTIMENTS.  361 

identifiable.  For  at  the  first  glance  Vaga  recog- 
nised the  sister  of  Cadger  Jack. 

It  was  not  that  which  had  caused  her  to  exclaim 
so  excitedly.  Winny  was  an  almost  everyday 
visitor  at  the  big  house,  having  much  business 
there,  and  nothing  strange  would  be  thought  of 
her  coming  to  it  at  any  time.  The  strangeness 
was  the  way  in  which  she  was  making  approach, 
hurriedly  and  in  long  strides — almost  at  a  run ! 

"  What  can  it  mean  ? "  mechanically  interrogated 
Sabrina,  who  had  joined  the  other  at  the  window. 
"  So  unlike  Winifred's  usual  stately  step !  Unlike 
her  manner  too — she  seems  greatly  excited.  Some- 
thing amiss,  I  fear." 

"  Oh,  sister !  I'm  sure  of  it.  Just  what  IVe  been 
thinking  and  saying.  She  has  news  for  us,  and 
sad  news — you'll  see." 

"  I  trust  not.  Stay !  this  is  Monmouth  market 
day,  possibly  she  has  been  to  the  market  and 
heard  something  there.  In  that  case  it's  not 
likely  to  affect  us  much,  all  we  care  for  being  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Forest.  And  yet  the  cadgers 
could  scarce  have  been  to  the  market  and  back 
again  already?  'Tis  too  early.  But  we  shall  soon 
know." 

By  this  the  cadgeress  was  pushing  open  the 
wicket-gate  of  the  haw-haw,  and,  now  near,  they 
could  read  the  expression  upon  her  features,  which 
showed  full  of  concern. 

Though  the  month  of  October,  the  morning 
was  warm,  and  the  window  in  which  they  stood, 
a  casement,  had  been  thrown  open.  Stepping 
into  a  little  balcony  outside,  and  leaning  over  the 
rail,  Sabrina  called  out  interrogatively — 

"  You  have  some  news  for  us.  Win  ? " 

"'Deed  yes,  my  lady.  That  hae  I,  an*  soriy 
l^e's  I  to  say't." 


362  NO  quarter! 

"  Bad  news,  then  ? "  exclaimed  both  sisters  in  a 
breath,  their  hearts  audibly  beating. 

"  Is  it  anything  from  Gloucester  ?  "  gasped  out 
the  elder  one,  the  other  mentally  echoing  the 
question. 

"  No,  my  ladies.     It  be  all  'bout  Monnerth." 

This  some  little  relieved  them,  and  more  tran- 
quilly they  waited  to  hear  what  the  news  was. 

"Them  he's  bad,  as  ye  ha'  guessed,"  continued 
the  cadgeress.  "  Him  have  been  took  by  the 
Cavalieres.'' 

"Him!  Who?"  simultaneously  exclaimed  the 
sisters,  again  greatly  excited. 

"  Monnerth,  mistresses  ;  I  sayed  Monnerth, 
didn't  I?" 

"  Oh !  yes,  yes."  They  were  too  glad  to  give 
assent,  without  noticing  her  ungrammatic  provin- 
cialism. "Monmouth  taken  by  the  Cavaliers,  you 
say?" 

"  Yes,  my  ladies.  They's  be  back  into  it,  an'  ha' 
shut  up  the  Parliamentaries  in  prison-— all  as  didn't 
get  away." 

"  Where  have  you  heard  this,  Win  ?  You 
haven't  been  to  Monmouth  yourself,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,  Mistress  Sabrina.  Only  partways.  Jack 
an'  me  started  for  the  market ;  but  fores  crossin' 
the  ferry  at  Goodrich  us  heerd  as  how  the  Sheriff 
wor  down  at  Monnerth,  an'  had  helped  them  o' 
Ragland  to  capter  the  town.  Takin'  the  hint,  us 
turned  back  an*  hurried  home,  fast  as  ever  we 
could  ;  an'  I  han't  lost  a  minnit  in  comin'  to  tell  ye." 

"'Twas  thoughtful  of  you,  Winifred,"  said  Sab- 
rina. "  And  we  give  you  thanks.  Now  go  round 
to  the  cook  and  have  something  to  eat.  But  stay ! 
I'm  forgetting.  You  haven't  told  us  what  time 
it  happened — f  mean  the  taking  of  Monmouth 
You  heard  that,  didn't  you  ? " 


AGAIN  PRESENTIMENTS.  363 

*Yes,  mistress.  Night  afore  last,  or  early  yester 
morn.  Whens  day  broke  the  King's  flag  be  seen 
over  the  Castle,  an'  there  wor  great  rejoicins  in 
the  town.     So  tolt  we  the  ferryman  o'  Goodrich." 

"  What  should  we  do  ? "  inquired  Vaga,  kfter 
the  cadgeress  had  parted  company  with  them,  re- 
tiring to  the  kitchen. 

"  What  can  we  do  ?  Nothing,  till  father  comes 
home.  As  they  must  have  had  the  intelligence  at 
Gloucester,  yesterday  evening  at  latest,  we  may 
look  for  him  soon.  I  suppose  we  must  give  up  all 
thought  of  hawking  to-day  ?  Some  one  had  better 
go  to  Van  Dorn's  lodge,  and  tell  him  not  to 
come." 

"  Too  late  1     There  he  is  now." 

The  falconer  was  seen  approaching  by  a  side 
path,  with,  an  attendant  who  carried  the  hawks 
on  a  cadge^  a  couple  of  dogs  following.  At  the 
same  instant  saddled  horses,  in  the  charge  of 
grooms,  were  being  brought  round  from  the  rear 
of  the  house.  All  this  had  been  ordered  before- 
hand, the  ladies  having  sate  down  to  breakfast 
costumed  and  equipped  for  the  sport  of  falconry. 

"  Shall  we  send  them  back  ? "  queried  Sabrina, 
irresolutely. 

"Why  should  we?" 

Vaga  was  passionately  fond  of  hawking ;  and, 
now  that  she  knew  the  worst  of  that  foreboding 
late  felt,  was  something  of  herself  again.  The 
taking  of  Monmouth  was  but  one  of  the  many 
incidents  of  the  war ;  no  misfortune  had  happened 
to  any  in  whom  they  had  special  concern. 

"  I  suppose  we'll  have  to  leave  Holly  mead  now, 
she  added,  "once   more   to   take   up   our   abode   in 
cities.      In  which   case   it   may  be   long    before  we 
have   another    day  with   hawks.      If  we   don't    go, 
Van  Dorn  will  be  so  disaf)pointed " 


364  KO  quarter! 

"If  we  do,  then,"  rejoined  Sabrina,  half  assent^ 
ingly,  "  it  mustn't  be  far — not  outside  the  park." 

**  Agreed  to  that.  No  need  for  our  going  out 
of  it.  Inside  we'll  find  plenty  of  things  to  fly  your 
Mer  at.  As  for  my  Pers,  if  better  don't  turn  up, 
we  can  whistle  them  off  at  a  cushat." 

So  it  was  settled,  and  in  twenty  minutes  after 
they  were  in  their  saddles,  and  away  beyond  sight 
of  the  house,  listening  to  the  hooka- ha- ha- ha^  the 
whistle  and  the  whoop. 


CHAPTER    LIV 

A    GLITTERING    COHORT 

It  was  getting  late  in  the  afternoon  when  a  party 
of  horsemen,  numbering  about  two  hundred,  com- 
menced the  ascent  of  Cat's  Hill,  going  in  the 
direction  of  Ruardean. 

Soldiers  they  were,  in  scarlet  doublets,  elabo- 
rately laced;  their  standard  flag,  with  the  Royal 
arms  in  its  field,  and  a  crown  upon  the  peak  of 
its  staff,  proclaiming  them  in  the  service  of  the 
king. 

That  it  was  no  common  cavalry  troop  could  be 
told  by  other  distinctive  symbols.  Beside  the 
three  or  four  subalterns  in  their  places  along  the 
line,  half  a  score  other  officers  were  at  its  head  ; 
in  gorgeous  uniforms,  and  with  hats  grandly 
plumed,  as  on  the  personal  staff  of  a  general. 
And  such  were  they ;  the  rank  and  file  rearward 
being  his  escort.  No  ordinary  general  either,  but 
the  commander-in-chief  of  the  King's  armies — 
Prince  Rupert  himself. 

His  own  garb  in  splendour  outshone  all  ;  a 
blaze  of  jewels  and  gold,  from  the  aigrette  in  his 
hat  to  the  spurs  upon  his  heels — costume  more 
befitting  court  than  camp. 

But  he  was  not  now  on  any  war  expedition ; 
instead,  on  the  way  to  seek  conquest  of  other  kind 
than  by  the  sword. 

It  was  the  day  succeeding  that  night  of  revelry 

36« 


366  NO  quarter! 

at  his  quarters  in  Bristol ;  and  the  words  there 
exchanged  between  him  and  Colonel  Lunsford  will 
explain  his  presence  on  the  Cat's  Hill,  with  face 
turned  towards  Ruardean.  For  in  that  direction  also 
lay  Hollymead  House  whither  he  was  proceeding. 

Quick  work  and  a  rapid  ride  had  he  made  of 
it ;  evincing  the  strong  passion  of  fancy  with 
which  the  "  bit  of  saucy  sweetness "  had  inspired 
him. 

Lunsford  was  with  him,  by  his  side ;  the  two 
some  lengths  in  the  lead,  and  apart  from  the  others, 
conversing  as  they  rode  on. 

"You  think,  mein  Colonel,"  said  the  Prince,  in- 
terrogatively, "  we  shall  find  the  frduleins  at  home 
this  time!" 

"  Pretty  sure  of  it,  your  Highness.  Since  the 
Goodrich  ferryman  heard  of  their  being  at  Holly- 
mead  yesterday,  it's  scarcely  probable  they  can 
have  taken  departure  since." 

"  But  the  news  from  Monmouth  will  have 
reached  them.     How  about  that  ?  '* 

"  It  will  affect  them  somewhat,  I  dare  say.  Still, 
Master  Powell  is  not  a  man  to  be  easily  frightened. 
As  your  Highness  will  be  aware,  Ruardean  is  not 
under  the  Monmouth  Commissioners.  Sir  John 
Wintour  on  the  Gloucester  side,  is  the  one  Powell 
has  most  reason  to  apprehend  a  visit  from.  And 
as  he  will  know  of  Sir  John's  being  held  in  check 
by  Massey,  he  won't  be  much  alarmed,  just  yet. 
Still,  no  doubt,  he'll  be  for  moving  back  again  to 
Gloucester ;  though  not  in  such  hot  haste,  but  that 
your  Highness  will  have  an  opportunity  of  holding 
speech   with   him." 

*'Gotti  Sir  Thomas;  that  should  be  the  reverse 
of  pleasant,  from  what  you've  told  me  about  the 
old  Roundhead's  tongue.  He  may  give  it  me  as 
be  did  yourself.** 


A  mMnsmM  coHUk  J.  367 

*^No  fear  oi'  that,  your  HigfanesSv 

•  Why  not,  pray  ?  ** 

"  The  circumstances  are  quite  difTereni^  He  had 
backings  about  him  then-— these  ugly  fores  fellows, 
five  to  our  one.  Besides  a  Royal  PriiSire --Puritan 
though  he  be — he'll  have  respect  fo*  'Jiiat.  But 
what  matters  it  about  his  prating^  Vour  High- 
ness intends  laying  him  by  the  heels  4  * 

"  That  will  depend  on  circumstances.  We  must 
try  the  suaviter  before  the  fortiter.  If  fair  words 
fail,  then — the  extremities." 

"  Our  present  visit  to  the  Master  of  HoUymead 
is  to  be  of  a  friendly  character  then  ?  Is  that 
your  Highness's  intention  ! " 

"  Ceremoniously  so  ;  all  the  politeness  to  be  ob- 
served by  every  one  of  our  escort.  You  will  see 
to  that,  Colonel?" 

"It  shall  be  seen  to.  But  does  your  Highness 
propose  taking  them  all  to  the  house }  It  might 
be  convenient  to  leave  some  at  the  village,  to  wait 
your  coming  back." 

"  Neiuy  nein  ! "  impatiently  exclaimed  the  Prince. 
"All  go  on  with  me." 

Astute  schemer  as  was  Lunsford  himself,  he  was 
not  aware  of  certain  motives  actuating  his  master. 
Anything  but  an  Adonis  was  the  son  of  the 
Elector  Palatinate.  Yet  such  he  dreamed  himself, 
with  a  confidence  in  his  power  of  fascinating  the 
fair  sex  almost  illimitable.  The  type  and  boast 
of  Cavalierism,  he  wielded  sway  uncontrolled 
wherever  he  went,  or  the  Royal  cause  was  trium- 
phant; women,  as  men,  either  willingly  submitting 
to  his  caprices,  or  not  daring  to  oppose  them. 
Many  a  conquest  had  he  made  over  weak  crea- 
tures consenting.  For  the  achievement  of  such  he 
well  knew  the  advantage  of  stately  show  and  regal 
surroundings,   nowhere   more   effective   than   in    the 


368  NO  quarter! 

country  he  was  defiling  with  his  presence.  Evert 
at  this  day  as  then,  where  the  proverbial  indem- 
nity for  the  wrong-doing  of  kings  is  extended  to 
princes  and  princelets,  their  social  backslidings 
gaining  them  credit,  rather  than  blame,  under  the 
facetious  title,  geniality. 

No  man  better  than  Rupert  knew  woman's 
weakness  in  this  regard.  Hence  the  shining  re- 
tinue he  had  summoned  to  attend  him  in  this  ride 
through  the  Forest  of  Dean — one  of  the  pleasure 
excursions  he  was  accustomed  to  make  under  the 
plea  of  a  military  reconnaisance.  For,  although 
the  future  pirate  of  the  West  Indian  seas  was 
quite  indiflferent  to  English  public  opinion,  there 
were  reasons  then  for  him  not  too  openly  out- 
raging it.  By  his  defeats  and  failures  he  had  lost 
the  countenance  of  the  court,  and  intrigue  was 
there  busy  against  him. 

"In  that  case,  your  Highness,*'  rejoined  Luns- 
ford,  "there's  no  necessity  for  our  going  through 
the  village.  A  path  leads  through  the  woods  by 
which  it  can  be  avoided," 

"  Is  it  a  roundabout  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  if  any.  It  comes  back  into  this 
again,  near  Hollymead  Park  gates.  If  we  pass 
through  the  village  your  Highness's  escort  will 
gain  a  large  accession  of  strength,  which  may  not 
be  agreeable  to  you." 

"  Gott,  yes !  Something  in  that.  Sir  Thomas. 
Let  us  take  the  other  way,  then.  Where  does  it 
branch  off?" 

"There,  your  Highness";  and  he  pointed  to  the 
embouchure  of  a  wood  road  some  paces  ahead  on 
the  right. 

Without  further  speech  they  turned  into  it,  and 
rode  on  beneath  the  shadow  of  trees,  whose 
branches,  arcading  over,  hindered  sight  of  the  sun. 


A  GLITTERING  COHORT.  369 

For,  though  October,  these  were  still  in  full  foli- 
age, the  leaves  falling  late  in  the  Forest  of  Dean. 
But  green  no  more  ;  save  those  of  the  yew,  holly, 
and  frost-defying  bramble,  with  the  mistletoe  and 
its  pearl-like  pellucid  berries.  All  others  showed 
hues  and  tints  varied,  and  almost  as  vivid  as  those 
of  the  tropical  forests  so  much  extolled  by  tra- 
vellers. 

A  winding  path  it  was,  by  reason  of  the  steep 
incline ;  and  as  in  silence  the  glittering  cohort, 
forced  into  single  file  by  its  narrowness,  slowly 
followed  the  sinuosities  upward,  it  might  have  been 
likened  to  a  gigantic  serpent  in  crawl  towards  un- 
suspecting prey. 

This  similitude  in  more  ways  than  one  ;  for  at 
the  head  of  that  glancing  line  jthere  were  serpents, 
though  in  human  shape,  making  approach  to  what 
they  intended  as  victims. 


B  1 


CHAPTER    LV. 

HAWKING    AT    HOME. 

The  peregrines  had  killed  cushat  and  partridge, 
the  merlin  its  half  score  of  buntings  and  turtle 
doves,  and  the  ladies  having  had  a  surfeit  of 
sport,  were  about  setting  faces  homeward.  Not 
that  it  was  late — still  wanting  two  hours  of  sunset 
— but  the  news  from  Monmouth  had  disquieted 
them,  and  they  were  feeling  anxious  about  their 
father's  return.  He  might  be  back  already,  and 
if  so,  would  wonder  at  their  being  away  from  the 
house. 

Van  Dorn  had  called  off  the  dogs^  rehooded 
the  hawks,  and  made  all  ready  for  the  start  home, 
when  game,  of  a  sort  that  day  unseen  by  them, 
came  unexpectedly  in  view.  A  heron  on  its  way 
across  the  Forest  from  the  Severn  to  the  Wye, 
flying  low  as  it  passed   over  the  park. 

Hapless  heron !  A  temptation  no  falconer  could 
resist  ;  and  at  leave,  or  rather  command,  from  the 
younger  of  his  mistresses,  off  went  hoods  again, 
leashes  were  let  loose,  and  once  more  away  flew 
the   noble   falcons,   mounting  spirally   upward. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  gates  of  the  park  were 
thrown  open  to  admit  Prince  Rupert  and  his 
retinue.  With  Lunsford  still  by  his  side,  the  two 
had  already  looked  through  the  rails  and  up  the 
g^venuQ.     Xp  see  there  what  gave  them  s^tisfa,ction ; 


HAWKING  At  HOME,  i'/t 

the  house  with  windows  no  longer  shuttered,  smoke 
ascending  from  several  of  the  chimneys,  in  short 
every  sign  of  occupation.  ^ 

"The  family  here,  as  anticipated.  Your  High- 
ness will  not  be  disappointed  this  time." 

"Ah,  wo/il.  I  was  beginning  to  think  the  lady 
of  the  golden  locks  an  z£'nts  fatuus — never  to  be 
caught.*' 

"There  will  be  an  opportunity  of  catching  her 
now ;  and  keeping  her,  if  your  Highness  so  desire." 

"  You  would  counsel  making  the  frduleins  our 
prisoners  then }  Is  that  what  you  mean,  mein 
Colonel  ? '' 

"  Their  father  at  least  should  be  made  so. 
There's  every  reason  and  right  for  it.  He  your 
prisoner,  taken  back  with  you  to  Bristol,  'tis  but 
natural  his  daughters  should  accompany  him,  and 
share  his  captivity.  If  they  have  the  true  filial 
affection  they'll  be  but  too  willing  to  do  that. 
Does  your  Highness  comprehend?" 

"  Quite  1 "  was  the  laconic  response. 

The  suggestion,  cruel  and  ruffianly,  did  not  jar 
on  Rupert's  ears ;  rather  was  it  in  harmony  with 
his  wishes,  and  half-formed  designs.  He  was  pro- 
ceeding to  ponder  upon  it^  having  ridden  through 
the  gate,  when  a  cry,  peculiarly  intoned,  came 
from  a  remote  corner  of  the  park,  quick  followed 
by  a  shrill  whistle. 

The  air  was  still,  and  sounds  could  be  heard 
from  afar;  these  being  clearly  distinguishable. 

*  Ho-ho !  '*  exclaimed  the  Prince,  reining  his 
horse  to  a  stand.  "Sport  going  on  herel  Some- 
body out  hawking." 

The  hooha-ha-ha  was  familiar  to  him. 

*Yes,"  said  Lunsford.  "That  was  a  falconer's 
cry — the  cast  off." 

"Who  might  it  be.  Sir  Thomas  ?" 


i7^  NO  QUARTER  I 

"Impossible  to  say,  Prince.  The  party  must 
be  behind  that  spinney  of  Scotch  firs.  But  see! 
yonder  the  hawks  !     Peregrines  in  chase  of  a  heion." 

"  By'r  Lady,  yes !  A  splendid  caste.  Trained 
to  perfection.  How  handsomely  they  mount  up ! 
Over  him  now!  That  stoop  and  rate,  superb.  A 
fig  for  your  chances,  master  lance-beak.  Hey ! 
One  of  them  bound  !  Now  the  other.  Now  down, 
down.      Wunderschdn  !  " 

Absorbed  in  watching  the  actual  conflict,  all  eyes 
directed  upward,  Rupert  and  his  following  for  a 
time  neither  saw  nor  thought  of  anything  else.  No 
more  did  they  of  the  hawking  party,  who,  led  by 
the  chase,  had  pushed  on  through  the  spinney  of 
firs  to  be  forward  at  the  kill.  Only  when  the 
bound  bird  was  writhing  to  free  itself,  in  its  last 
struggles  lowering  down  to  earth,  did  the  two 
parties  catch  sight  of  one  another.  Not  so  near 
yet,  a  wide  stretch  of  the  park  being  between ; 
but  near  enough  for  a  mutual  making  out  of  what 
they  were. 

"  Soldiers !  **  exclaimed  they  of  the  hawking  party 

"  Wenches  I "  the  word  that  came  from  the  lips 
of  the  Cavaliers. 

**  We're  in  luck.  Prince,*  said  Lunsford.  **You 
see  yonder  1 " 

**Two  ladies  j  yes.  Are  they  the  birds  we're  in 
search  of,  think  you?" 

"Sure  of  it,  your  Highness." 

"  Playing  with  other  birds.  Ha-ha !  Well ; 
suppose  we  join  them   at  their  play?" 

"As  your   Highness  commands." 

"  Do  you  know  them,  Sir  Thomas — I  mean  per- 
sonally ? " 

"  Tve  never  been  introduced,  Prince ;  but  Captain 
Trevor " 

"Ah!  I  remember  your  saying   something  about 


HAWKING  AT  HOME.  373 

his Trevor ! "  he  called   back  to  an  ofEcer  of 

his  suite,  "  come  hither !  ** 

Reginald  Trevor  it  was  ;  who,  parting  from  his 
place  in   the  line,  rode  up,  respectfully  saluting. 

**  If  Fm  not  mistaken,  sir,"  said  the  Prince,  "  you 
have  acquaintance  with  the  ladies  we  see  yonder? 
Presumably  the  daughters  of  Master  Ambrose  Powell." 

"If  it  be  they,  your  Highness,  I  once-  had.  But 
it's  been  dropped   long  ago." 

^•What!     A  quarrel.?*' 

"  No,  Prince,"  answered  the  young  officer,  some- 
what hesitatingl5^     "  Not  exactly  that." 

"Only  a  little  coolness,  then.  Well,  perhaps  I 
may  be  the  means  of  restoring  friendly  relations. 
But  first  I  want  you  to  perform  the  ceremonial 
of  introduction.  I  hope  you  haven't  so  far  offended 
the  damsels  as  to  render  you  ineligible  ?" 

Trevor  stammered  out  a  negative,  at  the  same 
time  announcing  his  readiness  to  comply  with  the 
Prince's  wish.  He  could  not  help  himself,  knowing 
it  was   more  a   command  than  request. 

"  Come  along,  then  !  Let  us  on  to  them.  You, 
Colonel,  keep  the  escort  at  halt  here,  till  I  as- 
certain whether  we  can  have  a  night's  lodging  at 
Hollymead  House.  That  is,"  he  added  in  a  jocular 
way,  "  whether  we'll  be  made  welcome  to  it." 

Saying  which,  he  gave  his  Arab  a  touch  of  the 
spur,  and  started  off  at  a  canter  over  the  green 
sward,  direct     for  the  hawking  party. 

Of  course  Reginald  Trevor  went  along  with  him  ; 
though  with  a  reluctance  which  had  only  yielded 
to  authority  not  to  be  gainsaid.  Despite  her 
withering  words  spoken  at  their  last  interview,  he 
still  loved  Vaga  Powell  himself — ^hoping  against 
hope — still  had  respect  for  her  ;  and  to  introduce 
Prince  Rupert  was  like  being  a  party  to  the  aC' 
complishment  of  her  ruin. 


374  NO  quarter! 

**  Humph  !  *'  grumbled  the  ex- Lieutenant  of  the 
Tower  as  he  looked  after  them,  some  little  cha- 
grined at  being  left  behind  ;  "  High  Mightiness 
thinks  he's  going  to  have  it  his  own  way  with 
yellow  hair.  He  won't  though ;  unless  he  do  as 
I've  counselled  him.  But  'twill  come  to  that-^ 
must,  before  we  go  back  to  Bristol — and  I  shall 
carry  thither  my  share  of  the  sweet  spoils,** 


CHAPTER  LVI. 

AN   INTRODUCTION   IN   THE  SADDLE, 

•*Who   can  they  be?     Not  soldiers  of  the  Parlia* 

ment  ? " 

**  No ;  too  much  gaud  and  glitter  for  that." 

"  Sir  Henry  Lingen's  !  " 

**  Scarcely  either.  I  heard  ^  Richard  say  Sir 
Henry's  men  carry  lances.  These  have  none. 
More  probably  they're  from  Monmouth,  or  rather 
Raglan.  The  old  Marquis  of  Worcester's  greatly 
given  to  display ;  and  his  son,  Lord  Herbert.  The 
shining  peacock  at  their  head  is  likely  Herbert 
himself.  They  are  Royalists,  anyhow;  that's  cer- 
tain." 

The  dialogue  was  between  the  sisters,  com- 
menced as  they  caught  sight  of  the  scarlet- 
coated  horsemen,  who  had  entered  within  their 
park.  Hurriedly  they  talked,  a'hd  in  tone  telling 
of  agitation.  For  it  was  a  spectacle  to  cause 
them  alarm ;  King's  soldiers  coming  to  Holly- 
mead  could  mean  no  good,  but  all  the  opposite. 
Just  the  visitors  foreshadowed  by  Vaga's  fears ; 
ner  presentiment  fulfilled  after  all ! 

**  What  can  they  be  wanting,  I  wonder  i "  she 
qu^,  led  in  a  half  mechanical  way.  **  Nothing  with 
Wk  J  hope  ?  " 

**  Not  likely  with  us ;  but  father.  We  were 
wishing  him  at  home.     How  fortunate  he  isn't  1 " 

**  But  he  may  come  at  any  time  I " 

37S 


376  NO   QUARTER  I 

"  Indeed,  yes.     What's  to  be  done  ?" 

The    elder   sister    seemed    perplexed.       Only    fot 
a   short    while;    then    a   thought  came   to   her  aid;' 
and     half    turning    to    the     groom    who    attended 
them,  she  said, — 

"  Rees !  Ride  back  through  the  firs ;  gently, 
and  as  if  looking  for  something  left  behind. 
When  on  the  other  side  go  as  fast  as  ever  you 
can  ;  out  through  the  back  gate.  First  round  to 
Ruarden,  to  the  cadgers  cottage.  Tell  Winny  to 
come  up  to  the  house  in  all  haste.  Then  gallop 
along  the  Gloucester  road,  and,  if  you  meet  your 
master,  turn  him  back.     You  understand  ?  " 

Rees  was  a  quick-witted  Welshman,  and  did 
understand.  Said  so ;  and  at  once  started  to 
execute  the  order ;  riding  slowly  off  towards  the 
spinney,  in  zigzags,  with  body  bent  and  eyes 
searching  over  the  ground.  Once  under  cover 
of  the  trees,  however,  he  straightened  himself  in 
the  saddle,  and  was  soon  outside  the  inclosure. 

The  despatching  him  had  been  but  the  work 
of  a  few  seconds,  and  he  was  gone  before  any 
movement  had  been  made  by  the  soldiers,  who 
were  still  halted  at  the  gate. 

*' What  have  they  stopped  for?"  again  won- 
dered Vaga.  "Surely  they  intend  going  on  to 
the  house  ?  " 

"*Tis  wc  who  have  stopped  them.  Their  faces 
are  turned  this  way — they  see  us  ! " 

"  Ah,  yes !  And  two  have  separated  from  the 
rest— are  coming  towards  us!  What  ought  we 
to  do  ? " 

"We  may  as  well  await  them  here;  'twould 
be  impossible  to  shun  them  now." 

"  How  should  we  receive  them  i  " 

"Why,  civilly  of  course.  WeVe  no  alternative 
but  be  civil  to  them.     If  it  be  the  Lord   Herbert 


AN   INTRODUCTION   IN   TH£  SADDLE.         37; 

we  need  not  fear  any  special  rudeness.  Althougk 
they  are  Papists,  the  Raglan  people  have  never 
yet " 

"  It's  not  the  Lord  Herbert  I "  interrupted  Vaga 
of  keener  sight ;  her  eye  more  occupied  with  the 
two  making  approach. 

**  How  know.,  you  it's  not } "  demanded  hei 
sister,  in  some  wonder.  "You  never  saw  him 
did  you?" 

**  No ;  but  IVe  seen  the  one  weVe  been  taking 
for  him — the  shining  peacock,  as  you  call  him. 
So  have  you." 

"  Who  is  he,  then  ?  " 

« Prince  Rupert!" 

"So  it  is,  indeed!     And  the  other — — * 

"  Reginald  Trevor !  " 

By  this  the  two  horsemen  were  so  near,  there 
was  no  opportunity  for  the  sisters  to  exchange 
further  speech,  save  in  undertone  ;  Sabrina,  as  a 
last  word  of  caution,  whispering, — 

"We  are  helpless,  and  must  play  a  part  I've 
thought  of  it ;  will  tell  you  when  we're  alone. 
So  be  more  than  civil ;  very  polite." 

"  I  will  try." 

Rupert,  a  little  in  the  advance,  was  now  up ;  and 
suddenly  checked  his  charger  to  a  halt,  in  such 
wise  as  to  present  the  attitude  of  Mercury  just 
alighted  on  a  "heaven-kissing  hill." 

"  Fair  ladies ! "  he  said.  "  I  have  not  the  plea- 
sure of  knowing  you.  But  this  gentleman,  who 
has,  if  you  object  not,  will  do  me  the  honour  of 
sm  introduction." 

"  His  Royal  Highness,  Prince  Rupert,"  an- 
nounced Trevor,  after  saluting  on  his  own  account, 
somewhat  awkwardly. 

The  "  fair  ladies "  acknowledged  the  introduc- 
tion with  a  bow ;   even  smilingly,  which  was  more 


3^8  NO  qIjarter! 

than  might  have  been  expected.  They  said 
nothing,  however,  leaving  the  Prince  to  direct 
the  course  of  conversation. 

Well  pleased  with  his  reception  he  went  on, — 

"Apologies  are  owing  for  the  interruption  of 
your  sport.     I  fear  we've  done  that  i " 

"No,  your  Highness,"  said  Sabrina.  "We  had 
finished  for  the  day." 

"  Egad !  A  good  finish  too.  I  myself  wit- 
nessed the  kill,  and  never  saw  handsomer.  Your 
peregrines  are  noble  birds,  and  well  trained  to 
their  work.  Ah !  you  have  a  merlin,  too.  Pretty 
creature  ! " 

By  chance  the  merlin  was  perched  upon  the 
neck  of  Vaga's  palfrey ;  and,  while  speaking,  the 
Prince  had  drawn  close-^-up,  as  if  to  get  a  nearer 
view  of  it  But  his  eyes  were  on  the  girl's  face 
instead,  and  the  "pretty  creature"  seemed  an 
apostrophe  to  her  rather  than  the  bird.  For  it 
was  spoken  with  peculiar  emphasis,  and  in  a 
subdued  tone,  as  if  he  did  not  desire  her  sister 
to  hear  it.  Nor  did  she,  having  become  engaged 
in  conversation  with  Captain  Trevor,  some  distance 
apart. 

"She's  very  clever,"  rejoined  Vaga,  referring  to 
the  merlin,  and  without  appearing  to  notice  the 
gaze  directed  upon  her,  "  can  kill  everything  she's 
cast  off  at." 

"Ah!"  sighed  the  Prince.  "Fatal  to  all  the 
larks  and  buntings,  just  as  the  eyes  of  her  mis- 
tress must  be  to  all  men." 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  puzzled  expression. 
What  a  strange  remark  to  make  about  her  sister, 
whom  he  could  never  have  seen,  save  that  once 
as  they  passed  him  going  out  of  Bristol !  But 
she  understood  it,  on  his  adding, — 

"  The  little  beauty  is  yours,  I  take  it  ?  " 


AN    INTRODUCTION   IN   THE  SADDLE.  379 

"  No,  your  Highness,"  she  answered,  without 
making  any  allusion  to  the  implied  compliment, 
though  its  braverie  jarred  upon  her  ear.  "The 
merlin  belongs  to  my  sister.  The  peregrines  are 
mine." 

"  Happy  peregrines  ! "  he  exclaimed,  pretending 
to  apostrophise  the  two  great  falcons,  that,  now 
hooded,  had  been  returned  to  their  kedge.  **  How 
I  should  like  to  be  one  of  you !  Ay ;  would 
consent  to  be  held  in  leash  for  life,  could  I  but 
hope  for  caresses,  such  as  you  receive  from  the 
hands  of  your  beautiful  mistress.  Ah !  that  must 
be  sweet ! " 

There  could  be  no  mistaking  the  character  of 
speech  like  this,  rude  even  to  impertinence.  It 
brought  the  red  into  the  young  girl's  cheeks,  and 
she  would  have  angrily  resented  it,  but  was  re- 
strained by  the  caution  late  received  from  her 
sister.  Still,  to  let  it  pass  unnoticed  was  out  of 
the  question,  and  would  likely  lead  to  her 
being  yet  further  insulted.  Making  an  effort  to 
curb  her  kindling  indignation,  she  rejoined,  calmly 
as  she  could, — 

"  Such  language  may  befit  the  fine  Court  ladies, 
with  whom  your  Highness  is  accustomed  to  hold 
conversation.  We  simple  country  girls  are  not 
used  to  it." 

Regardless  of  modest  manners,  even  of  com- 
mon decency,  as  was  this  German  Prince,  he  felt 
the  rebuke,  and  quailed  under  it.  For  the  glance 
of  quiet  scorn  that  went  with  the  words  told  him 
he  was  putting  on  airs,  and  paying  compliments 
to  no  purpose.  In  that  quarter  all  would  be 
thrown  away. 

With  a  light  laugh  he  endeavoured  to  conceal 
his  discomfiture,  saying  apologetically, — 

**  Oh !     mistress,    you     must    pardon     the    free 


38<:^  NO  quarter! 

speech  of  a  Cavalier.  Our  tongues,  as  our  swords, 
often  fly  out  without  reflection.  Be  assured  I 
meant  not  to  offend — far  from  it." 

Apology  was  a  bitter  pill  for  Prince  Rupert  to 
swallow ;  but  he  gulped  it  down  with  a  better 
grace,  confident  of  having  the  "bit  of  saucy  sweet- 
ness" in  his  power.  If  he  failed  to  make  con- 
quest of  her,  there  was  another  way  to  fall  back 
upon ;  that  to  which  his  low  familiar,  Lunsford, 
had  been  all  along  counselling  him. 

The  little  d^sagrement  brought  their  tSte-^'teie 
to  an  end,  the  Prince  not  caring  to  continue  it 
It  could  be  resumed  at  a  more  favourable  op- 
portunity, which  he  meant  to  find  before  leaving 
Holly  mead..  Seeming  suddenly  to  recollect  him- 
self, he  said^  in  voice  loud  enough  to  be  heard 
by  the  elder  i^ister,  as  he  intended  it, — 

"  But,  ladies !  I've  only  half  apologised  fof 
our  intrusion,  and  trust  you  will  pardon  it,  when 
you  hear  my  excuses.  I  was  on  the  way  to  visit 
your  worthy  father,  with  whom  I  have  some 
business.  When  hearing  the  hooha-ha!  —  ardent 
falconer  as  I  am — I  couldn't  resist  coming  across 
to  learn  the  result.  Permit  me  to  take  leave  of 
you,  with  ^  thanks  for  your  gracious  reception. 
Unless,  indeed,  you  do  me  the  further  honour  of 
letting  me  escort  you  to  the  house.  If  I  dared 
make  so  free,  I  would  even  ask  the  favour  of 
being  introduced  by  you  to  your  father,  with 
whom  I  regret  not  having  personal  acquaintance." 

**  Our  father  is  not  at  home,"  said  Sabrina, 
speaking  for  both. 

"  Indeed ! "  he  exclaimed,  looking  half-disap- 
pointed, half-pleased.  "That's  unfortunate.  But  I 
suppose  you  expect  him  soon } " 

**We  cannot  tell  what  time  he  may  return,  your 
Highness." 


AN  INTRODUCTION  IN  THE  SADDLE.  38! 

'*  Ah !  he*s  gone  upon  a  journey,  then.  May  I 
Ask  whither  ?  You'll  pardon  the  inquiry,  in  view 
of  my  business  with  him  ?  " 

"To  Gloucester,"  she  answered,  without  hesi- 
tation, too  glad  to  have  the  questioner  think  that 
he  inquired  about  was  in  that  safe  city. 

"  His  absence  is  disappointing,"  said  the  Prince — 
half  in  soliloquy,  and  half  addressing  himself  to 
Captain  Trevor.  "  It  will  necessitate  our  staying 
here  for  the  night."  This  loud  enough  for  the 
ladies  to  hear.  "  I  regret  that,"  he  pursued,  again 
turning  to  them,  "  not  on  my  own  account,  but 
because  the  quartering  of  my  escort  at  Holly- 
mead  cannot  be  over  agreeable  to  you.  How- 
ever, I  can  promise  best  behaviour  on  their  part; 
and  should  your  servants  have  any  rudeness  to 
complain  of  it  shall  be  punished  with  all  severity." 

This  self-invitation  to  the  hospitality  of  Holly- 
mead  House,  however  vexatious  to  the  daughters 
of  its  absent  owner,  did  not  at  all  surprise 
them.  They  had  been  expecting  it  as  the  up- 
shot; for,  despite  his  fine  phrases  of  apology  — 
all  pretence  —  the  Prince's  bearing  and  manner 
told  them  how  much  he  felt  himself  their 
master. 

Withal,  they  were  not  dismayed,  Sabrina  making 
calm  rejoinder,  with  some  formal  words,  that 
Hollymead  would  be  too  much  honoured  by  his 
presence.  Then  in  a  whisper  to  Vaga,  as  they 
drew  side  by  side  to  ride  home, — 

"  Keep  up  courage,  Vag.  Above  all  keep 
your  temper.  Everything  may  depend  on  that 
WeVe  among  wolves,  that  may  tear  us  if  angered." 

"  Go  back,  Captain !  "  called  the  Prince  to  Tre- 
vor. "Give  my  commands  to  Colonel  Lunsford, 
and  tell  him  to  bring  the  escort  on  to  the  house." 

"  Lunsford  along  with  them  !  "  ejaculated  Sabrina, 


3Si  NO  QUARTER  1 

in    undertone    to    her    sister.      "That    makes    my 
words  good.     We  are  among  wolves." 

The  evil  repute  of  this  .  man  justified  hei 
speech.  It  had  been  spreading  day  by  day,  till 
his  name  was  now  become  a  synonym  of  inhu- 
manity— a  bogie  to  stop  the  crying  of  the  babes 
in  the  cradle. 


CHAPTER    LVII. 

A  CRIME  IN  CONTEMPLATION. 

Still  self-invited,  Rupert  accompanied  the  ladies 
to  the  house,  and  assisted  them  to  dismount  with 
great  show  of  courtesy  and  respect.  The  little 
ruffle  with  Vaga  had  determined  him  not  to  try  on 
that  tack  again. 

He  did  not  go  inside  with  them,  having  some 
directions  to  give  to  his  suite,  seen  approaching 
up  the  avenue.  Besides,  it  was  nearing  dinner 
hour,  and  they  must  needs  repair  to  their  dressing- 
rooms. 

Left  by  himself,  the  Prince  seemed  all  impatience 
for  his  escort  to  come  up.  He  had  even  shown 
haste  when  helping  the  ladies  out  of  their  saddles, 
as  if  wishing  to  be  disembarrassed  of  them  with 
the  least  delay.  Some  new  thought,  or  scheme, 
had  evidently  entered  his  mind  ;  and  recently, 
or  since  despatching  Trevor  with  the  order  to 
Lunsford,  as  then  he  had  said  nothing  about 
time. 

When  they  were  near  enough  to  hear  him  he 
called  out,  making  a  sign  to  the  officer  at  their 
head  to  hasten  them  on.  This  was  Lunsford  him- 
self, who,  perceiving  that  something  was  wanted, 
separated  from  the  cavalcade,  spurring  his  horse 
to  a  quick  canter.  As  the  haw-haw  gate  had 
already  been  opened,  he  passed  through  it  withput 
i^top  or  interruption,  on  to    the  hous^ 

^1 


384  NO  QUARTER  1 

'*  Come  up — nearer !  "  said  the  Prince,  speaking 
low,  and  in  a  cautious  manner  as  if  he  feared  being 
overheard.  He  was  standing  in  the  porch,  a  little 
elevated  above  the  ground,  and  as  the  other  drew 
alongside,  seated  in  the  saddle,  their  heads  were 
close  enough  for  conversing  in  whispers. 

"What  is  it,  your  Highness?"  asked  Lunsford, 
wondering  at  the  air  of  mystery. 

"  I  suppose  Trevor  has  told  you  the  pater  isn't 
at  home?" 

'*  He  has,  Prince ;  but  I  knew  it  before." 

"  Indeed  !     How  learnt  you  ?     When  ?  " 

"Just  after  your  Highness  rode  away  from  us. 
One  of  Poweirs  people,  a  sort  of  shepherd,  or  cow- 
boy, chanced  to  be  coming  into  the  park ;  and 
with  a  little  cross-questioning  I  got  out  of  him, 
both  the  fact  of  his  master's  absence,  and  the  where- 
abouts." 

"He's  at  Gloucester." 

"Yes,  Prince.  But  the  affair  of  Monmouth  will 
draw  him  home,  soon  as  he  receives  news  of  it.  He 
should  have  had  that  long  ago  ;  so  may  be  expected 
here  at  any  moment." 

"Just  so.  But  if  he  get  word  of  our  being  here 
before  him,  he  may  turn  back  and  give  us  the  go-- 
by.  So  I  want  half  a  dozen  files  detached,  and 
sent  off  along  the  Gloucester  road,  under  a  trusty 
officer,  in  all  haste.  If  they  meet  him,  he's  to  be 
made  prisoner  at  once." 

"It's  already  done,  your  Highness." 

"  What !     Has  Powell  been  taken  ?  " 

"  No,  Prince ;  pardon  me.  I  meant  the  detach- 
ment  has  been  sent  to  intercept  him.  I  took  the 
liberty  of  doing  that  without  your  orders.  There 
was  not  time  to  communicate  with  your  Highness, 
unless  at  the  risk  of  being  too  late."     * 

^  True,  Colonel^  trv^." 


A  CRIME  IN  CONTEMPLATION.  385 

"And  it  would  have  been  too  late,"  he  went  on 
to  explain  in  justification  of  his  act.  "  As  your 
Highness  started  to  join  the  hawking-party,  perhaps 
you  may  not  have  noticed  a  man  separating  from 
it,  and  riding  back  through  the  trees  ? " 

"  Nein,  Colonel.     I  did  not." 

"  But  I  did,  Prince.  He  appeared  to  be  one  of 
Iheir  attendants — a  groom — though  in  the  distance 
one  couldn't  be  sure  what.  But  from  the  way  he 
went  off  I  suspected  it  had  something  to  do  with 
our  being  seen.  Soon  as  I  learnt  the  other  thing, 
I  was  sure  of  it.  Besides,  shortly  after  he  had 
passed  out  of  sight  behind  the  firs,  I  distinctly  heard 
hoof-strokes,  as  of  a  horse  in  full  gallop.  Putting 
that  and  that  together  it  occurred  to  me  he  might 
have  gone  off  to  give  the  very  warning  your 
Highness  apprehended." 

"If  such  were  his  intent,  he  may  still?" 

"  No,  Prince ;  not  likely.  He  won't  be  in  time. 
Going  out  by  a  back  gate  he'll  have  to  ride  the 
whole  round  of  the  park  before  he  can  get  upon  the 
Drybrook  road,  which  is  that  for  Gloucester.  The 
detachment  started  only  a  few  minutes — less  than 
five — after ;  and  on  the  direct  route  will  easily 
head  him  ofT.  They  have  orders  to  lay  him  by  the 
heels,  and  bring  him  back  here ;  it's  to  be  hoped 
the  other  with  him." 

**  Gott,  Colonel !  youVe  been  clever.  A  capital 
stroke  of  strategy.     If  it  fail,  I  shan't  blame  you." 

**  Your  Highness's  approval  gratifies  me.  I  think 
we  need  not  fear  failure.  At  all  events  the  mes- 
senger, if  such  he  is,  will  be  stopped,  and  something 
will  be  squeezed  out  of  him  as  to  his  errand.  I 
gave  instructions  that  a  file  be  sent  back  with  him, 
soon  as  taken.  So  we  may  expect  seeing  him 
ere  long.  I  suppose  your  Highoess  designs  to 
quarter  here  for  the  night  ^'^ 

CO 


3§6  NO  QUARtERl 

"Any  number  of  nights,  Colonel,  if  one  be  not 
enough  for  accomplishing  my  purpose." 

*  Half  a   one  will  be  enough  for   that,  Prince,  if 
you  proceed  to  accomplishing  it  in  the  way  I  would 
advise   you.      No  timid    measures    will  avail   here ;  . 
only  the  bold  course,  which  conquest  gives  a  right 
to,  all  over  the  world." 

Without  a  blush  did  the  ruffian  give  utterance 
to  his  atrocious  counsels  ;  for  he  knew  they  were 
congenial  to  him  into  whose  ears  he  was  pouring 
them. 

"Belike,    that    will  be    the    best    way,"   rejoined 

the  Prince,  well    knowing  what    was  hinted    at.     "  I 

come  to  be  of  your  mind,  Colonel.     But  now,  return 

to  the  escort.      Give  directions  for  their    going  into 

quarters.      See    that     sentries     are     set    round   the 

house,    with  out-lying   pickets.     We   cannot   be   too 

Cc^eful,  though  Monmouth  is  in   our  hands.     When 

you   have    everything    setlfd.,  come   to   me   inside. 

Then  we  can  talk  about  further  action." 

Light  of  heart,  Lunsford  proceeded  to  the 
execution  of  the  orders  thus  given.  By  the  Prince's 
manner — and  speech,  half  admitting — he  saw  that 
the  latter  had  received  a  rebuff,  and  was  in  the 
mood  for  violence,  even  to  outrage.  It  would  be 
nothing  new  to  him ;  nor  the  first  time  for  the 
ex-Lieutenant  of  the  Tower  to  be  his  aid  and 
companion  in  such  a  criminal  escapade  as  that 
they  were  now  contemplating. 

Verily  were  Ambrose  Powell's  daughters  in  danger ! 
And  a  danger  neither  had  conception  or  suspicion  of. 


CHAPTER   LVIII. 

A  MESSENGER  DESPATCHED. 

The  girls  had  gone  upstairs,  their  maid,  Gwenthian, 
attending  upon  them  to  dress  for  dinner,  of  which 
something  had  been  said  to  the  Prince  when 
parting  with  him  at  the  door. 

Once  inside  the  dressing-room,,  however,  Sabrina, 
instead  of  proceeding  to  change  her  attire,  made 
direct  for  an  escritoire^  the  flap  of  which  she  pulled 
open.  Then  seating  herself  before  it,  she  drew  a 
sheet  of  paper  from  its  drawer,  and  commenced 
writing  with  nervous  haste. 

A  letter  it  was  of  no  very  great  length,  and 
in  a  few  seconds  finished.  But  before  folding  it 
up  she  turned  to  the  maid  saying, — 

"  Gwenth !  Go  down  to  the  back  door,  and  stay 
about  there  till  you  see  cadger  Jack's  sister.  I 
expect  her  to  come  up  to  the  house ;  and  if  nothing 
has  hindered,  she  should  be  here  very  soon  now. 
When  she  arrives  bring  her  to  me,  without  losing 
a  moment.     Do  it  all  quietly.'* 

Gwenth  signified  her  comprehension  of  the 
orders,  and  was  about  starting  to  execute  them, 
when  her  mistress  said,  "  Stay  1 "  Then,  after 
reflecting  a  moment,  added, — 

**  Go  into  the  kitchen,  and  tell  the  cook  dinner 
is  not  to  be  served  before  Winny  goes  away — that 
is,  if  she  come.  In  any  case,  it's  not  to  be  put  on 
the  table  till  she  has  further  directions  about  it*" 

387 


388  NO  quarter! 

"  But  must  we  really  dine  along  with  him  ?  ** 
asked  Vaga,  as  the  maid  passed  out  of  the  room. 
She  had  commenced  making  her  toilette,  and, 
inattentive  to  what  her  sister  had  been  doing,  only 
overheard  what  she  said  about  the  dinner.. 

'^  Either  that  or  give  offence.  I  had  to  speak 
of  dinner — could  not  help  it — and  the  Prince  will 
expect  us  to  sit  at  the  table." 

**  I'd  rather  sit  down  with  Beelzebub.  Oh,  Sab  ! 
you  can't  conceive  what  a  vile,  vulgar  man — Prince 
though  he  be.*' 

**  Yes  I  can  ;  know  it.  Richard  has  told  me 
all  about  him.  But  we  must  bear,  and  dissemble ; 
do  our  best  to  entertain  both  him  and  his  officers. 
I  think  we  needn't  fear  any  special  rudeness  just 
yet ;  and  if  we  can  keep  them  to  their  good  be- 
haviour for  twelve  hours  I  ask  no  more." 

"Why  do  you  say  twelve  hours?" 

"  Read  that." 

It  was  the  note  she  had  just  written  ;  and,  soon 
as  the  other  had  run  her  eyes  over  it,  she  added,-— 

"  Now  you  understand  ? " 

**  I  do.      But  how  is  it  to  be  taken  there  ?  * 

"By  Winny.  It's  just  for  that  I  gave  Rees 
orders  to  send  her  up." 

"Couldn't  Rees  have  taken  it  himself?  On 
horseback  he  would  go  much  faster." 

"True,  he  might,  if  permitted  to  start.  But  he 
wouldn't  be — not  the  least  likelihood  of  it  If  he 
return  to  the  house — which  I  hope  he  won't — 
they'll  not  let  him  leave  it  again.  But  Win  will 
do  better  every  way.  We  can  trust  her,  and  for 
speed  she'll  get  to  her  journey's  end  quick  as  any 
courier  on  horseback.  She  knows  all  the  short 
cuts  and  by-ways  through  the  Forest.  That  will 
be  in  her  favour  to  save  time — besides  safety  other- 
wise.    The  fear  I  have  is  her  not  being  at  home 


A  MESSENGER  DESPATCHED.  389 

What  a  pity  we  didn't  know  of  their  coming,  when 
she  was  with  us  in  the  morning ! " 

**  Perhaps  not  so  much,*'  rejoined  Vaga,  whose 
subtle  ear  had  caught  the  sound  of  footsteps  as- 
cending the  stairs ;  two  sets  of  them,  as  told  by 
the  lighter  and  heavier  tread.  "That's  Win  now 
coming  up  with  Gwenth.     I'm  almost  sure  of  it." 

In  a  few  seconds  after  both  were  sure  of  it,  as 
the  opened  door  discovered  their  maid  outside  on 
the  landing  with  the  cadgeress  close  behind. 

^  Oh,  Win  !  we're  so  glad  !  "  exclaimed  the  sisters 
in  a  breath,  as  she  was  ushered  into  the  room. 

"  Glad  o'  what,  my  ladies  ? "  asked  the  woman, 
with  a  puzzled  look.  She  did  not  understand  how 
they  could  be  joyful  under  the  circumstances. 

**At  your  being  here,"  answered  Sabrina.  "We 
were  afraid  you  might  not  be  at  home,  or  unable 
to  come  to  us." 

"  Well,  mistress,  I  wor  at  home,  an*  comed 
soon's  I  got  your  message.  But  my  comin'  wor 
nigh  all   bein'  for  nothin'." 

"How  so.?" 

"The  Cavaliere  sodgers  warn't  for  lettin'  me  in 
o'  the  house,  nor  yet  through  the  back  gate. 
They  ha'  got  sentries  all  roun'.  Besides,  the  yard 
be  full  o'  them  wi'  their  horses,  an'  their  impe- 
rence  too." 

"  They  were  impudent  to  you  ? " 

"  'Deed,  yes,  my  ladies.  Swored  at  me,  an'  said 
I   mauna  set  foot  inside  the  gate." 

"  You  see  what  courteous  guests  we've  got^ 
sister?"  said  Vaga.  "  The  attendants  of  a  Prince! 
I  thought  it  would  end  so." 

"  Me  tried  to  get  past  they,"  continued  the 
cadgeress,  "by  tellin'  a  bit  fib.  I  sayed  us  wc 
the  washwoman  come  for  the  clothes." 

"  How  clever  1 "    exclaimed  Vaga,  admiringly. 


390  NO  quarter! 

"Not  much  o'  that,  mistress.  Anyways  it  warn*t 
no  use.  Them  wouldn't  allow  me  in  after  all ;  if  t 
hadn't  been  for  a  young  officer,  who  chanced  be 
near,  an'  ordered  they  let  me  pass.  He  spoke 
me  kindly  too,  which  wor  the  strangest  thing 
o'  all."  ,    . 

"Why  strange?"   asked  Sabrina. 

"On  account  o*  who  him  wor,  my  lady." 

"Who.? 

"Captain  Trevor,  the  one's  used  to  come  to 
Hollymead  fores  the  war.** 

She  had  no  need  to  particularise  which.  The 
sisters  knew,  and  exchanged  glances ;  that  of  the 
elder  showing  a  peculiar  intelligence. 

"Odd'o'  he  bein'  civil  to  me,"  pursued  the 
woman.  "  Him  must  'a  knowed  we  well  enough, 
an*  had  remembrance  o*'  what  happened  on  the 
Cat's  Hill  two  years  ago.  I  tolt  you  about  it, 
my  ladies." 

"  You  did,"  said  Sabrina.  "  And  it  does  seem 
a  little  strange  of  Captain  Trevor  not  being,  spite- 
ful if  he  recognised  you,  as  he  must  have  done. 
But,"  she  added,  becoming  impatient,  "  no  matter 
for  that  now.  Time  is  pressing,  and  we  want 
you  to  do  us  a  service.  Win.      You  will  ? " 

"  Why  needs  thee  ask  if  us  will  i " 

"  Because  there's  some  danger  in  it." 

"  That  be  no  reason ;  and  don't  speak  o*  the 
danger.  Please  to  say  what's  weeshed  done,  Mis- 
tress Sabrina ;  an  *t  shall  be  did  if  in  the  power 
o'  we  to  do't." 

"  This  then,  dear  Winny.  We  want  it  taken  to 
Gloucester." 

She  held  out  what  appeared  a  spill  for  lighting 
pipe  or  candle.  It  was  the  note  she  had  just 
written,  folded  and  doubled-folded  till  no  longer 
recognisable  as  a  sheet  of  paper,  much  less  a  letter. 


A  MESSENGER   DESPATCHED.  39I 

For  all  the  cadgeress  knew  it  to  be  such ;  and 
not  the  first  of  its  kind  she  had  received  from  the 
same   hands,  for  surreptitious  conveyance. 

*'  It  shall  be  tookt  theer,"  she  said,  in  a  deter- 
nyned  way,  "  if  the  Cavalieres  don't  take't  from 
me  on  the  way.  Them  won't  find  it  without  some 
searching  though." 

Saying  which,  she  made  further  reduction  in  the 
dimensions  of  the  sheet  by  double  knotting  it ; 
then  thrust  it  under  the  coils  of  her  luxuriant  hair, 
and  by  a  dexterous  play  of  fingers  so  fixed  it 
that,  only  undoing  the  plaits,  could  it  be  discovered. 

The  letter  bore  no  address,  nor  was  name 
signed  to  it.  Neither  inquired  the  cadgeress  to 
whom  it  was  to  be  delivered.  Enough  that  Mis- 
tress Sabrina  had  given  it  to  her,  and  it  was  for 
Gloucester.  She  knew  there  was  a  man  there  it 
must  be  meant  for;  she  herself,  for  a  special 
reason,  being  always  well  posted  up  as  to  the 
whereabouts  of  Sir  Richard  Walwyn  and  his 
Foresters. 

"Thee  weesh  me  to  start  immediate^  I  suppose, 
my  lady  ?  " 

"  At  once — soon  as  you  can  get  off.  How  long 
will  it  take  you  to  get  to  Gloucester?" 

"  Well,  for  usual  me  an*  Jack  he's  'bout  four 
hours  fra  Ruardean.  But  I  once*t  did  the  journey 
myself  in  a  bit  lessen  three,  an*  can  go  t'  same 
again." 

*'  It's  now  a  little  after  six — only  ten  minutes," 
said  Sabrina,  consulting  her  three-cornered  watch. 
"  Do  you  think   you  could  get  there  by  nine  ? " 

"  Sure  o'  that ;  an  afores,  if  us  be  alive,  an' 
nothin'  happen  to  stop  we  on   the  way." 

"  Oh !  I  hope  there  won't,  dear  Winny,  Time 
is  of  such  importance  ;  so  much  depending  upon 
^t      Ay,  it  may  be  lives." 


392  NO  QUARTER  I 

She  leant  forward,  and  whispered  some  words 
into  the  woman's  ear ;  either  a  last  pressing  in- 
junction, or,  it  might  be,  promise  of  reward  for  the 
service  to  be  performed.  Whatever  it  was,  on  the 
face  of  the  Forest  Amazon  there  was  an  expression 
of  ready  assent ;  then  a  humorous  smile,  as  she 
made  haste  to  be  gone,  saying, — 

"  Now,  Gwenthy !  gie  us  the  clothes  for  the 
wash!'' 

The  maid,  as  her  mistress,  looked  a  little 
puzzled.  But  quickly  comprehending,  all  three  set 
to  collecting  such  lingerie  as  they  could  lay  hands 
on,  soon  making  up  a  bundle  big  enough  to  re- 
present a  week's  consignment  for  the  laundry. 

Which  the  pretended  washerwoman  having 
hoisted  on  her  head,  started  downstairs  with  it ; 
Gwenthian,  by  direction,  going  along  to  see  her 
out  of  doors,  assist  her  in  cajoHng  the  sentries, 
and  bring  back  report  whether  these  had  been 
safely  passed. 


CHAPTER  LIX. 

BROUGHT  HOME  A  PRISONER. 

After  the  cadgeress  had  gone  out  of  the  room 
the  anxiety  of  the  sisters  was,  for  a  while,  of  the 
keenest  The  first  flush  of  excitement  over,  they 
saw  danger  in  what  they  had  done.  Should  their 
messenger  be  stopped  outside,  and  the  note  found 
upon  her,  there  was  that  in  it  which  could  not  fail 
to  compromise  them.  Moreover  its  contents  had 
reference  to  an  important  matter,  a  design  that 
would  be  all  defeated. 

Luckily  they  had  not  long  to  endure  suspense. 
A  light  tread  on  the  stairs  told  of  Gwenthian  re- 
turning ;  and  as  she  appeared  in  the  doorway,  kept 
open  for  her,  the  joyous  expression  on  her  face 
betokened  a  successful  issue  to  the  affair  she  had 
been  sent  upon. 

"  Win's  .got  safe  away ! "  was  her  triumphant 
announcement,  as  she  tripped  lightly  into  the 
room. 

"  Good  I "  exclaimed  both,  Sabrina  going  on  to 
inquire  particulars. 

"Did  they  let  her  pass  without  any  question- 
ing?" 

"No,  indeed,  mistress.  The  sentries  at  the  back 
gate — there  are  two  at  it — stopped  her;  and  one 
pulled  the  bunr^le  off  her  head.  They  were  going 
to  open  and  examine  it,  when  Captain  Trevor 
came  up,  and  ordered  them  to   put  it  back  again. 


394  NO  quarter! 

Then  he  passed  her  through  the  gate,  saying  some- 
thing— like  in  a  friendly  way." 

"  Did  you  hear  what  he  said  ?  " 

"  Only  to  the  soldiers  ;  telling  them  to  let  the 
washerwoman  alone.  But  Win  gave  them  a  -bit  of 
her  tongue  too,  as  if  she  was  real  angry ! " 

"  You  saw  her  well  away  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mistress ;  beyond  where  there  were  any  of 
the  people.  She  took  the  path  to  the  falconer's 
lodge,  where  she's  to  leave  the  things." 

"  Why  leave  them  there  ?  " 

"  Because  she  don't  intend  returning  to  her  own 
cottage.  That,  she  said,  would  delay  her ;  besides, 
some  of  the  soldiers  might  be  straying  along  the 
Ruardean  road,  and  stop  her  again.  She's  gone 
the  way  through  the  woods." 

The  ladies  felt  relieved.  Win  would  manage  it 
if  woman  could  ;  and  should  she  succeed  in  reach- 
ing Gloucester,  they  might  ere  long  look  for  other 
relief  from  the  dangers  that  environed  them. 

But  there  was  something  to  be  done  meanwhile  ; 
their  unwelcome  visitors  to  be  entertained.  And 
how  to  extend  hospitality  to  such  was  a  perplex- 
ing problem.  Not  only  their  numbers,  but  their 
character  made  it  so.  The  common  soldiers  could 
take  care  of  themselves  outside ;  the  signs  and 
sounds  told  they  were  already  doing  so  ;  but  the 
Prince  himself,  and  the  officers  in  his  suite,  would 
have  to  be  treated  in  a  different  way.  Dinner 
had  been  spoken  of — supper  as  called  then — and 
this  was  the  first  thing  to  be  thought  about. 

"Go  down  again,  Gwenth,"  commanded  Sabrina, 
acting  mistress  of  the  mansion,  "tell  the  cook  to 
set  it  upon  the  table  as  soon  as  it  is  ready." 

"  For  how  many,   my  lady  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  can't  tell.  Let  her  count  for,  say  a 
score;  and  send  in  all  the  eatables  she  can  com- 
mand." 


BfeOtJGHt  ttOiME  A  PRISONfeR.  395 

As  the  maid  went  kitchenward  to  deliver  the 
somewhat  indefinite  directions,  her  young  mis- 
tresses turned  to  making  their  toilette  at  length 
and  at  last.  And,  perhaps,  never  was  one  made 
more  reluctantly,  or  less  elaborately,  for  a  Prince 
of  the  blood  Royal.  Little  cared  they  how  they 
might  look  in  his  eyeSy  or  any  other  eyes  that 
were  to  be  upon  them.  For  their  hearts  were  full 
of  heaviness;  oppressed  by  keen  anxiety  about 
their  father^ — still  apprehending  his  return  home. 
They  knew  how  much  he  was  compromised  with 
the  King's  party;  had  been  ever  since  the  re- 
bellion began,  and  before.  For,  ere  blow  had  been 
struck,  or  sword  drawn,  had  he  not  resisted  the 
loan  by  Privy  Seal  ?  And  here  again  at  Holly- 
mead  were  the  two  men  who  had  attempted  to 
levy  that  loan  upon  him — Colonel  Lunsford  and 
Captain  Reginald  Trevor !  They  would  be  satisfied 
with 'no  money  contribution  now  ;  but  meant  mak- 
ing him  their  prisoner,  with  some  severe  punish- 
ment for  his  *' delinquency." 

So  feared  his  daughters  at  that  hour ;  and,  as  a 
consequence,  had  little  care  or  thought  about  any- 
thing besides ;  even  of  the  peril  impending  over 
themselves. 

"  It's  strange,  Rej  Trevor  behaving  in  such  a 
way  to  Win,"  remarked  Vaga,  as  she  stood  before 
the  mirror  adjusting  her  rebellious  tresses.  He 
couldn't  help  knowing  her,  as  she  herself  says. 
Once  seen  she's  not  the  sort  to  be  easily  forgotten. 
And  after  that  encounter  they  had  on  the  Cat's 
Hill !     Very  strange,  isn't  it  ? " 

"Yes,    indeed,"    assented    Sabrina ;    "I've    been- 
wondering  at  it  myself,  and  at  something  besides." 

"  What  besides  ?  " 

"  His  behaviour  in  every  way  H«  «ee«i^  alto 
gether  changed." 


396  NO  quarter! 

"  IVe  had  no  opportunity  of  observing  it  What 
makes  you  think  so?" 

"  While  you  were  apart  with  the  Prince  we  had 
some  conversation.  He  talks  quite  differently 
from  his  old  frivolous  way.  And  no  more  has  he 
the  swaggering  manner  which  used  to  be  so  offen- 
sive." 

"  Then  he*s  not  the  conceited  Cavalier  of  twelve 
months  ago  ?  '* 

"Anything  but  that.  Had  I  not  known  him  in 
the  past  I  should  set  him  down  for  a  modest 
young  fellow,  of  rather  melancholy  temperament  ; 
or  more  like  one  who  had  some  sorrow  preying 
upon  him." 

"  What  can  it  be,   I   wonder  ? " 

She  had  her  conjecture  as  to  what,  but  forbore 
declaring  it.  She  had  not  forgotten — how  could 
she  ? — his  confession,  made  in  passionate  appeal,  at 
their  last  interview.  She  knew  his  indifference  at 
their  parting  was  the  purest  affectation,  and  that 
the  fish  he  had  gone  to  catch  had  not  been 
caught. 

Recalling  that  scene,  her  sister  could  have  an- 
swered the  question  with  a  near  approach  to  the 
truth.  But  she,  too,  retentive  of  her  real  thoughts, 
but  said  in  careless  rejoinder, — 

"Oh  !  I  suppose  the  events  of  the  war,  which 
have  had  a  saddening  effect  on  everybody." 

"  Not  everybody.  These  self-invited  guests  of 
ours  are  at  least  an  exception.     Listen  to  them  ! " 

By  this  the  officers  of  the  Prince's  escort  had 
entered  the  house  ;  and  from  their  loud  talk  and 
laughter  were  evidently  making  themselves  at 
home  and  free  with  everything.  They  could  be 
heard  issuing  commands,  and  calling  out  orders  to 
the  servants,  as  though  the  place  were  a  public 
inn. 


BROUGHT   HOME  A   PRISONER.  397 

"  Like  as  not,"  continued  Vaga,  still  incredulous 
about  Reginald  Trevor's  conversion,  "  like  as  not 
your  'modest  young  fellow  of  rather  melancholy 
temperament*  is  laughing  among  the  loudest  of 
them.     I  fancy  I  hear  h-is  voice." 

"No,  Vag,  I  don't  think  you  do.     I   can't* 

**Well,  may  be  not.  And  it*s  to  be  hoped  he*j5 
sobered,  as  you  say.  He  needed  it.  Strange  if  h? 
is  though,  in  the  retinue  of  Prince  Rupert,  whose 
precept  and  example  are  more  likely  to  have  a 
reverse  tendency.  Possibly  Master  Rej  is  only 
humble  in  the  presence  of  the  High  Mightiness, 
his  master.  When  the  big  dog  is  by,  the  little 
one  has  to  be  on  its  good  behaviour." 

**  I  scarce  think  it's  that ;  and  you  may  be  wrong- 
ing him." 

'*If  I  am  I  shall  be  glad  to  know  it.  But  how 
odd  all  this ! "  she  added,  yielding  to  a  sudden  re- 
collection. "  Time  was  when  you,  Sab,  were  all 
the  other  way  about  Rej  Trevor;  used  to  caution 
me  against  him  !  '* 

She  had  faced  towards  her  sister,  and  stood  with 
hands  full  of  loose  hair  that  fell  as  a  cataract  of 
molten  gold  over  her  ivory  shoulders. 

"True,  I  did.  And  with  reasons  then.  Our 
father  was  against  him  more  than  I ;  which  may 
have  influenced  me.** 

"And  now.?" 

"Now  I  admit  never  having  believed  him  so 
very  bad — I  mean  at  heart.*' 

"  Oh !  nobody  ever  said  he  had  a  very  bad  heart. 
His  head  was  more  blamed  for  getting  him  ill  re- 
pute." 

"  His  habits  rather." 

"Say  habits,  thes.  But  why  are  you  thus  de- 
fending him  ?  '* 

"Because  of  his  seeming  so  friendly  to  us.     All 


398  NO  quarter! 

he  said  to  me  just  now,  with  his  manner,  was  as 
one  who  felt  sorry  at  our  being  thus  intruded  on. 
He  knows  it's  not  agreeable  to  us — cannot  be. 
And  his  behaviour  to  Win — that  confirms  my  belief 
that  he  has  no  hostile  feelings  to  us." 

"  Don't  be  so  confident  till  we're  sure  she's  safe 
off.  It  may  be  only  a  trap  to  catch  us.  How 
know  we  he  hasn't  followed  to  bring  her  back 
again,  and  so  win  favour  from  his  princely  patron. 
I  wouldn't  wonder  if  it's  something  of  that  kind. 
For  in  what  other  way  is  his  conduct  to  be  ac- 
counted for  ? " 

''  Heaven  help  us  if  it  be  that !  But  I  won't — 
can't  believe  it." 

**Well,  we  shall  soon  know,  now.  If  Win  get 
away,  I'll  think  better  of  Rej  Trevor  than  I've 
ever  done." 

''If  she  do,  to-morrow's  sun  may  see  soldiers 
here  in  green  uniforms,  with  red  ones  as  their 
prisoners,  and  you  and  I,  sister,  will  have  done 
something  for  the  good  cause — for  Liberty  ! " 

In  her  most  tranquil  mien  Sabrina  Powell  was 
an  imposing  personage ;  but  now,  excited  to  en- 
thusiasm by  the  word  "  Liberty "  on  her  lips,  and 
its  inspiration  in  her  heart,  with  her  grand  eyes 
aglow,  she  looked   its  very  Goddess. 

She  had  finished  her  toilette,  and  stood  at  the 
window,  a  front  one,  commanding  view  of  the 
avenue  and  entrance  gate  of  the  park.  But  not 
long  was  she  there  before  seeing  that  which 
brought  a  black  shadow  upon  her  brow,  with  chill 
fear  into  her  heart. 

**  Oh,  Vaga ! "  she  called  to  her  sister,  still  at  the 
mirror,  "  come  hither !     See  what's  down  yonder  I " 

The  summons,  in  tone  almost  of  agony,  drew 
the  other  instantly  to  her  side,  with  tresses  trailing. 
To    see    three    horsemen,    who    had    just    ps^ssed 


feROUGMT   HOME  A   PRlSONEk.  399 

through  the  gate,  and  were  coming  on  for  the 
house.  They  rode  abreast ;  he  in  the  middle 
being  in  sombre  civilian  garb,  the  two  who  flanked 
him  wearing  the  scarlet  uniform  of  the  soldiers 
already  around  the  house. 

"  'Tis  Rees  !  "  exclaimed  Sabrina,  recognising  the 
groom.     "  TheyVe  taken  him  prisoner  !  " 

"  Indeed,  yes  ;  'tis   he.     Oh,  sister,  dear !  if  father 

.  should   be   coming   home   now  ?      I    hope   he's   still 

!  in  Gloucester  1 " 

f  Vain  hope  ;  almost  on  the  instant  to  know  dis^ 
appointment.  For  before  those  already  entered 
were  half-way  up  the  long  avenue,  more  red  coats 
were  seen  riding  through  the  gate,  in  their  midst 
a  man  in  dark  dress — -he,  too,  evidently  conducted 
as  a  prisoner. 
"Tis  father  I" 


CHAPTER    LX. 

QUARTERED    UPON    THE    ENEMY. 

Night  had  descended  over  Hollymead.  A  dark 
night,  too,  though  there  was  no  lack  of  light  in- 
side  the  house  or  around  it.  Nearing  November 
the  atmosphere  had  a  frosty  feel^  and  great  wood 
fires  were  burning  in  the  wide  chimney  places  of 
the  reception-rooms.  Without,  in  the  centre  of  the 
court-yard,  a  very  bonfire  had  been  kindled,  which 
sent  its  red  glare  and  glow  to  the  most  distant 
corner  of  the  inclosure.  Around  this  were  seated 
or  standing,  in  every  variety  of  attitude,  such  of 
the  common  soldiers  of  the  escort  as  were  not 
upon  duty.  Carousing,  of  course.  For  the  rank 
and  file  of  the  Royalist  army,  especially  that 
portion  of  it  which  acted  under  Rupert,  followed 
the  fashion  of  their  officers  ;  and  one  of  the  affec- 
tations of  Cavalierism  was  to  display  a  superior 
capacity  for  indulgence  in  drink. 

About  the  house  they  had  found  the  where- 
withal to  give  them  a  good  supper,  with  more 
than  drink  enough  to  wash  it  down.  For  when 
Monmouth  fell  into  the  hands  of  the  Parliamen- 
tarians, the  Master  of  Hollymead,  thinking  it  safe, 
had  done  something  to  restock  his  pastures,  as 
also  replenish  larder  and  cellars.  And  once  more 
these  were  in  the  way  of  getting  speedily  depleted ; 
the  thirsty  troopers  around  the  court-yard  fire 
quaffing  at  free  tap   from  a  cask  of  ale  they  had 


QUARTERED   UPON   THE   ENEMY.  4OI 

rolled  out  upon  the  pavement ;  while  they  bandied 
coarse  jests,  told  indecent  stories,  or  sang  songs  of 
like  character,  roaring  in  chorus. 

Inside  there  was  revelry  also.  Of  a  less  rude 
kind  ;  still  revelry,  and  coarse  enough,  considering 
that  they  who  indulged  in  it  composed  the  entou- 
rage of  a  Prince.  In  the  dining-hall  was  it  being 
held,  around  a  table  on  which  stocTd  a  varied 
assortment  of  bottles  and  decanters,  goblets  and 
glasses.  There  had  been  a  repast  upon  it,  that 
same  dinner-supper ;  but  the  dishes  and  debris  of 
solids  had  been  removed,  and  only  the  drinking 
materials  remained.  Nearly  a  score  of  guests 
encircled  it,  all  gentlemen ;  and  all  in  military 
uniform — being  the  officers  of  the  escort — not  a 
man  in  citizen  garb  seen  among  them.  For  the 
master  of  the  house  was  not  at  the  head  of  his 
own  table,  as  might  have  been  expected.  Instead, 
shut  up  in  one  of  the  rooms  adjacent  ;  its  door 
locked,  and   a  sentry  stationed  oufside ! 

His  daughters  were  upstairs,  in  their  private 
apartment,  from  which  they  had  never  come  down. 
Through  the  window  they  had  seen  their  father 
brought  back  under  guard,  as  a  felon ;  saw  it  with 
indignation,  but  also  fear.  Greater  became  the 
last,  when  told  they  could  not  hold  speech  with 
him,  or  have  access  to  the  room  in  which  he  was 
confined.  Denied  interview  with  their  own  father, 
in  their  own  house  !  Inhumanity  that  augured  ill 
for  w^hat  was  to  come  after. 

What  this  might  be  they  could  neither  tell  nor 
guess.  They  even  feared  to  reflect  upon  it ; 
trembling  at  every  footstep  on  the  stairs.  Though 
no  key  had  been  turned  upon  them,  nor  sentry 
set  at  their  door,  they  were  as  much  imprisoned 
as  their  father.  For  the  Prince's  retinue  of  seivants 
filled     the     house,    tramping     and    roaming    about 


401  NO  QUARTER  1 

everywhere,  and  bullying  the  family  domestics.  It 
was  not  safe  to  go  out  among  them  ;  and  the 
young  ladies  had  locked  themselves  up,  dreading 
insult,  if  not  absolute  outrage.  Even  Gwenthian 
dared  not  trust  herself  downstairs,  and  shared 
their  confinement. 

What  did  it  all  mean  ?  Why  such  change  in 
the  behaviour  of  the  Prince,  so  late  pretending 
amiability  ?  For  his  people  must  have  sanction, 
or  they  would  not  be  so  acting. 

The  explanation  was  simple,  withal.  Shortly 
after  Rupert's  arrival^  at  Hollymead,  a  courier,  who 
had  fo^owed  him  from  Monmouth,  brought  tidings 
of  another  Royalist  reverse — Chepstow,  with  its 
castle,  taken  or  closely  beleaguered.  Exasperated 
by  the  intelligence,  he  no  longer  resisted  the  wicked 
proposals  of  Lunsford,  but  gave  willing  assent  to 
them.  And  now,  having  thrown  off  the  mask,  he 
had  determined  on  taking  the  whole  Powell  family 
back  with  him  to  Bristol.  As  his  prisoner  there 
he  could  do  with  the  "bit  of  saucy  sweetness"  as 
it  might  please  him  ;  as  he  had  done  with  many 
other  unfortunate  women  whom  the  chances  of 
war  had  brought  within  his  wanton  embrace. 

It  had  been  all  settled,  save  some  details  about 
the  departure  from  Hollymead,  the  time,  and  the 
return  route.  These  were  now  being  discussed 
between  him  and  the  commanding  officer  of  his 
escort,  as  they  sate  at  a  side  table  to  which  they 
had  temporarily  withdrawn,  to  be  out  of  earshot 
of  the  others. 

"  Should  we  remain  here  for  the  night,  niein 
Colonel,  or  make  back  to  Monmouth }  We  can 
get  there  before  midnight." 

"That  we  could,  easily  enough,  your  Highness. 
But  why  go  by  Monmouth  at  9,11  ? " 

"Why  not?" 


OOARtiERED   UPON   THE   ENEMV.  403 

"  There  are  two  reasons  against  it,  Prince.  Both 
good  ones." 

"  Give  them,  Sir  Thomas/* 

"If  it  be  true  that  Chepstow's  lost  to  us,  there 
may  be  a  difficulty  in  our  crossing  the  Wye  down 
there.  Or  getting  over  to  the  Aust  passage  of  the 
Severn,  with  such  a  weak  force  as  attends  your 
Highness." 

"  Gott !  yes  ;  I  perceive  that.  But  what's  your 
other  reason  against  Monmouth  way  ? " 

**  A  more  delicate  one.  To  pass  through  that  town 
with  such  a  captive  train  as  your  Highness  will 
have,..might  give  tongue  for  scandal.  The  venerable 
Marquis  of  Worcester  is  rather  squeamish ;  besides 
not  being  your  best  friend.   You  know  that,  Prince  ? " 

"  I  do  know  it,  and  will  some  day  make  him 
sorry  for  it,  the  old  Papist  hypocrite.  But  what 
other  route  would  you  have  us  take  }  " 

*'  Down  through  the  Forest  direct,  and  across 
the  Severn,  either  at  Newnham  or  Westbury. 
There's  a  ferry  at  both  places,  with  horse-boats 
enough  to  take  us  all  over  in  a  trip  or  two.  We 
may  reach  Berkeley  Castle  before  daylight ;  where, 
if  it  be  your  Highness's  pleasure  to  lie  up  for  the 
day,  you  could  enter  Bristol  on  the  following  night 
without  all  the  world  being  the  wiser  as  to  the 
sort  of  prisoners  we  carried  in." 

**  Egad !  your  reasons  are  good.  Fm  inclined  to 
follow  your  advice,  and  return  by  the  route  you  speak 
of.     Are  you  well  acquainted  with  it,  mem  Colonel  .'*  " 

"  Reasonably  well,  your  Highness.  But  Captain 
Trevor  knows  it  better  than  I.  He  was  longer 
with  Sir  John  Wintour,  and  is  familiar  with  every 
crook  and  turn  of  the  Forest  roads  in  that  quarter. 
There  can  be  no  danger  of  our  going  astray." 

"But  the  night's  dark  as  pitch.  So  one  has 
just  told  me." 


404  NO  QUARTER  I 

"  True  it  is  now,  your  Highness.  But  there'll 
be  a  moon  this  side  midnight,  and  that  will  be 
time  enough  to  start.  We  can  make  Berkeley 
before  morning — prisoners,  crossing  the  Severn,  and 
all  delays  notwithstanding.  Next  night  your  High- 
ness may  sleep  in  your  own  bed  within  the  walls 
of  Bristol  Castle,  with  a  sweet  creature  to  share 
it — whom  I  need  not  designate  by  name.'' 

"She  shall  share  it!"  rejoined  the  Royal  re- 
probate, in  reckless,  but  determined  tone,  his  wicked 
passions  fired  by  the  wine  he  had  been  drinking. 
"And  we  go  that  way,  Colonel.  So  see  that  all 
be  ready  for  the  route  soon  as  the  moon  shows 
her  sweet  face.  Meanwhile,  let  us  back  to  our 
comrades  and   be  merry." 

Saying  which  he  returned  to  the  chair  he  had 
vacated  at  the  head  of  the  table,  the  other  along 
with  him  ;  then,  grasping  a  filled  goblet,  he  called 
out  the  Cavalier's  orthodox  sentiment  "  The 
Wenches  !  "  adding, — 

"Colonel  Lunsford  will  respond  with  a  song, 
gentlemen  !  " 

Which  the  Colonel  did ;  giving  that  they  liked 
best,  with  a  chorus  they  could  all  join  in, — 

"We'll  drink,  drink; 
And  our  goblets  clink, 

Quaffing  the  blood-red  wine. 
The  wenches  we'll  toast, 
And  the  Roundheads  we'll  roast, 

The  Croppies  and  all  their  kind." 

The  coarse  refrain,  with  the  ribald  jests  that 
followed  it,  could  be  heard  all  over  the  house, 
reaching  the  ears  of  its  imprisoned  owner.  Even 
those  of  his  daughters,  more  distant,  did  not  e'scape 
being  offended  by  them.  No  wonder  at  both  having 
in  their  hearts,  if  not  on  their  lips,  the  prayer, — 
"  God  speed  Win  upon  her  errand  I  " 


CHAPTER  LXI. 

A  COURAGEOUS  WADER. 

The  Severn  was  in  flood,  its  wide  valley  a  sheet 
of  water,  which  extended  miles  from  either  bank, 
and  far  up  north  towards  Worcester.  Viewed 
from  an  eminence,  it  looked  as  if  the  primeval 
sea  which  once  washed  the  foots  of  the  Malvern 
Hills  had  rolled  back  over  its  ancient  bed. 

The  city  of  Gloucester  seemed  standing  on  an 
island,  some  of  its  houses,  that  lay  low,  submerged, 
and  only  approachable  by  boats ;  while  the  cause- 
ways of  the  roads  leading  from  it  were  under 
water,  in  places  to  a  depth  of  several  feet. 

This  it  was  which  had  hindered  Ambrose  Powell 
arriving  at  Hollymead  House  many  hours  earlier 
than  that  on  which  he  was  taken  to  it  a  prisoner. 
For,  soon  as  receiving  news  of  the  recapture  of 
Monmouth,  instinctively  apprehending  danger  to 
the  dear  ones  so  unwisely  left  alone,  he  had  hur- 
riedly started  homeward  ;  to  be  delayed  by  the 
obstructing  flood.  NeaHng  home  with  heart  a 
prey  to  anxiety,  harasssed  by  the  thought  of  his 
own  imprudence ;  at  length  reaching  it  to  find  his 
worst  fears  realized ;  himself  no  longer  free. 

The  waters  still  prevailing  in  the  Severn  Valley 
and  around  Gloucester,  it  seemed  impossible  to 
enter  that  city,  save  by  boat.  Yet  on  that  same 
night  a  pedestrian   could   have    been   seen    making 


4o6  NO  quarter! 

towards  it  from  the  direction  of  Mitcheldean  ;  one 
who  meant  it  as  the  objective  point  of  her  journey 
— for  it  was  a  woman. 

The  great  cathedral  clock  was  just  tolling  nine 
p.m.  as  she  descended  into  the  lowlands  near 
Highnam,  and  came  to  a  stop  by  the  edge  of  the 
inundated  district  It  was  dark,  the  moon  still 
below  the  horizon;  but  her  precursory  rays,  re- 
flected from  fleecy  clouds  above  it,  threw  a  faint 
light  over  the  aqueous  surface,  sufficient  to  make 
objects  distinguishable  at  a  good  hundred  yards* 
distance.  Copses  that  seemed  islets,  with  the 
tufted  heads  of  pollarded  willows  rising  weird- 
like out  of  the  water,  were  the  conspicuous  features 
of  the  flooded  landscape.  Rows  of  the  latter 
marked  the  boundaries  of  meadows  ;  but  two  run- 
ning parallel,  with  a  narrower  list  between,  indicated 
the  causeway  of  the  road. 

The  woman  had  approached  this  point  at  a 
rapid  pace;  and,  though  brought  to  a  stand,  it 
was  but  a  momentary  pause,  without  thought  of 
turning  back.  Her  attitude,  and  the  expression 
upon  her  features,  told  of  a  determination  to  con- 
tinue on,  and  get  inside  Gloucester  if  that  were 
possible.  In  all  haste,  too  ;  for  as  the  strokes  of 
the  great  clock-bell  came  booming  over  the  water, 
she  counted  them  with  evident  anxiety,  in  fear 
of  their  tolling  ten  instead  of  nine.  Even  the 
lesser  number  seemed  scarcely  to  satisfy  her  ;  as  if, 
withal,  she  might  be  too  late  for  the  business  she 
was  bent  upon. 

She  but  waited  for  the  final  reverberation  ;  then, 
drawing  her  skirts  knee  high,  walked  boldly  into 
the  flood,  and  onward. 

Ankle-deep  at  the  first  step,  she  was  soon  in 
water  that  washed  around  her  garters.  Here  and 
there,   with    a    current    too,    which    threatened    to 


A  COURAGEOUS  WADER.  40/ 

sweep  her  off  her  feet.  But  it  did  not  deter  her 
from  advancing ;  and  on  went  she,  without  stop 
or  show  of  hesitation  ;  no  sign  of  quailing  in  her 
eye. 

At  knee's  depth,  as  ere  long  she  was,  still  enough 
of  her  showed  above  the  surface  to  represent  the 
stature  of  an  ordinary  woman.  For  she  was  not 
an  ordinary  woman,  in  height  or  otherwise — being 
Winny,  the  cadgeress. 

On  tramped  the  courageous  wader,  on  plunged, 
till  the  water^  was  up  to  mid  thigh.  No  more  then 
did  her  face  show  fear;  nor  sign  of  intention  to 
turn  back.  She  would  have  gone  on,  had  it  come 
to  swimming.  For  swim  she  could  ;  many  the 
time  having  bathed  her  body  in  both  Severn  and 
Wye.  That  was  not  needed  now,  though  very 
near  it.  Even  over  the  raised  ridge  of  the  cause- 
way the  flood  was  feet  deep.  But,  familiar  vAth 
the  route,  having  the  landmarks  in  her  memory — 
for  it  was  not  her  first  time  to  travel  that  road 
when  submerged — she  knew  all  its  turns  and  bear- 
ings ;  how  to  take  them  ;  took  them  ;  and  at  length 
having  passed  the  deepest  depths,  saw  before  her 
the  Severn's  bridge,  with  its  elevated  tete-de-pont ; 
and,  beyond,  the  massive  tower  of  the  cathedral, 
amidst  a  surrounding  of  roofs  and  chimneys. 

Her  perilous  journey  was  near  its  end,  the  toil- 
some journey  nigh  over ;  and  she  felt  happy.  For, 
as  through  frost  some  twelve  months  before,  she 
had  approached  Bristol  with  pleasant  anticipations, 
so  now  was  she  about  to  enter  Gloucester  with 
the  same,  and  from  a  similar  cause. 

Her  expectancy  was  realized  sooner  than  she  had 
hoped  for ;  the  result  identical  to  a  degree  of  odd- 
ness.  For  just  as  upon  that  night  at  Bristol,  so  on 
this  at  Gloucester,  Rob  Wilde  chanced  to  be  guard- 
sergeant  of  the  gate  by  which  she  sought  admission. 


4o8  NO  quarter! 

And  once  again  went  their  great  arms  around 
each  other;  their  lips  closing  in  kisses  loud  and 
fervent  as  ever. 

"God  Almighty,  Win!"  he  exclaimed,  still  hold- 
ing her  in  honest,  amorous  embrace,  "  what  be*t 
now?  Why  hast  thee  corned  hither  through  the 
flood  ?     Dear  girl !  ye  he's  wet  up  to  the " 

"No  matter  how  high,  Rob,"  she  said,  interrupt- 
ing, "if  'twor  up  to  the  neck,  there  be  good 
reasons  for't/' 

"  What  reasons  ?  ** 

**  N^ws  I  ha'  brought  frae  Ruardean  ;  rayther 
us  ought  say  Hollymead." 

"Bad  news  be  they?  I  needn't  ax;  I  see't  in 
your  face." 

"  Bad  enough ;  though  nothin'  more  than  might 
ha'  been  expected  after  the  Cavalieres  bein'  back 
at  Monnerth,  an'  master's  theer.  Ye  ha'  heerd  that, 
I  suppose  ? " 

"  Oh,  certainly  !  The  news  got  here  day  afore 
yesterday,  in  the  night.     But  fra   Hollymead  ?  " 

"A  troop  o'  em  there,  numberin'  nigh  two  hun- 
dred ;  horse  sodjers  in  scarlet,  wi'  all  sorts  o'  grand 
trappins ;  the  Prince  Rupert's  they  be.  Us  ha' 
come  wi'  a  message  to  Sir  Richard  So  I  needn't 
tell  ye  who't  be  from." 

"  No,  you  needn't.  I  can  guess.  Then  ye  maun 
see  him  at  once  ?  *' 

"  Wi*  not  a  minute's  delay.  Us  ha'  got  a  letter 
for  him  ;  an'  she  as  sent  it  sayed  the  deliverin'  be 
a  thing  o'  life  an'  death.  I  knows  that  myself, 
Rob." 

"  Come  along,  love !  The  colonel  be  in  his  quar- 
ters, I  think.  He  wor  by  the  gate  here  only  a 
short  whiles  ago,  and  gied  me  orders  for  reportin* 
to  him  there.  Another  kiss,  Win  dear,  fore's  we 
get  into  company." 


A  COtTRAGEOUS  WADER.  409 

The  favour  was  conceded  soon  as  asked  ;  and, 
after  another  hug,  with  more  than  one  osculation, 
the  two  great  figures  moved  off  side  by  side  through 
the  darkness. 


CHAPTER  LXII. 

THEIR   DEAR   ONES   IN    DANGER. 

As  the  sergeant  conjectured,  Colonel  Walwyn  was 
in  his  quarters ;  Eustace  Trevor,  his  almost  con- 
stant companion,  along  with  him.  The  ever-active 
Governor  of  Gloucester  was  absent  on  another  of 
his  many  expeditions,  and  had  left  Colonel  Brough- 
ton  in  chief  command  of  the  garrison.  Sir  Richard 
commanding  its  cavalry  force,  with  a  separate  juris- 
diction. 

The  duties  of  the  day  over,  with  all  guards  sta- 
tioned for  the  night,  he,  with  his  young  troop 
captain,  having  just  completed  the  ^*  Grand  Rounds," 
had  returned  to  quarters,  and  taken  seat  by  a  brisk 
wood  fire  ;  the  night,  as  already  said,  being  chill. 

Hubert  was  bustling  about  in  attendance  upon 
them  ;  for,  though  a  gaudy  trumpeter,  he  took 
delight  in  serving  his  revered  colonel  in  every 
possible  capacity.  There  was  nothing  menial  in 
waiting  upon  such  a  master — so  thought  the  faith- 
ful henchman. 

He  had  uncorked  a  bottle  of  claret,  and  placed 
it  on  the  table  between  them,  which  they  proceeded 
to  discuss  as  they  reviewed  the  events  of  the  day. 
The  knight  was  no  anchorite,  neither  the  ci-devant 
gentleman-usher;  both  accustomed  to  take  their 
wine  in  a  moderate  way.  And  both  habitually 
cheerful,  save  when  some  reverse  of  arms  gave 
reason  for  their  being  otherwise. 

4»o 


THEIR  DEAR  ONES  m  DANGER.  4II 

Such  there  was  now,  or  lately  had  been — that 
of  Monmouth  still  in  their  minds.  Sir  Richard 
regretted  not  having  been  himself  charged  to  keep 
the  place  he  had  been  chiefly  instrumental  in  cap- 
turing. Had  it  been  so,  the  enemy  would  not  so 
easily  have  retaken  it.  That  he  might  well  think 
or  say,  without  any  self-conceit.  For  in  the  most 
blundering  manner  had  Major  Throgmorton,  left 
in  temporary  command,  managed  its  defence  ;  in 
truth,  making  no  defence  at  all,  but  allowing  the 
Royalists  to  re-enter  almost  without  striking  blow. 

The  affair  was  truly  farcical,  however  serious 
for  the  Parliament.  Its  County  Committee  was 
at  the  time  in  session  ;  decreeing  fines  and  seques- 
trations against  the  Monmouthshire  "  malignants  "  ; 
when  all  at  once  confronted  by  the  very  men  with 
whose  estates  and  chattels  they  were  playing  at 
confiscation  ;  these  armed,  and  angrily  vociferating 
— ^** Surrender !  you  are  our  prisoners!" 

Never  were  judicial  deliberations  brought  to  a 
more  abrupt  ending;  never  transfer  of  authority 
more  ludicrously  sudden.  Though  it  was  aught 
but  a  jesting  matter  to  the  dispossessed  ones,  who 
from  a  comfortable  council-chamber  were  instantly 
hurried  off  to  the  cells  of  a  dismal  jail. 

Of  course  the  Cavaliers  made  much  fun  over 
the  affair ;  while  reversely  their  adversaries  were 
chagrined  and  humiliated  by  it. 

Few  grieved  over  the  event  in  a  greater  degree 
than  Colonel  Walwyn  and  Captain  Eustace  Trevor ; 
for  they  had  special  reasons. 

"  I  only  wish  Td  known  of  that  danger  when  we 
got  Massey's  order  to  march  hither,"  observed  the 
former,  as  they  sat  sipping  their  wine. 

"  What  would  you  have  done.  Sir  Richard  ?  ** 

**  Disobeyed   it ;    and   marched  our    men    in 
opposite  direction — to  Monmouth.^' 


412  NO  quarter! 

"Ah,  true!  A  pity  you  didn't.  It  might  have 
been  the  saving  of  the  place." 

"  No  use  lamenting  the  disaster  now  it*s  -  done. 
Would  that  the  taking  of  the  town  were  all  you 
and  I,  Trevor,  have  concern  about  1  Unfortunately 
ft  isn't.  What  madness  leaving  the  girls  at  Holly- 
mead — absolute  insanity  ! " 

"It  was.  I  thought  so  at  the  time,  as  did 
Vaga." 

"  Sabrina  too ;  everybody  but  Powell  himself. 
He  couldn't  be  convinced  there  was  any  danger ; 
and  I  still  hope  there  may  not  be.  But  who 
knows  what  the  upshot  now  ?  I  tremble  to  think 
of  it." 

"  It's  to  be  regretted,  we  didn't  more  press  him 
to  come  away  with  us." 

**  Oh  !  that  would  have  been  of  no  use.  I  did 
urge  it  on  him — far  as  I  could  becomingly.  But 
he  had  one  of  his  obstinate,  pig-headed  fits  upon 
him  that  day,  and  would  listen  to  no  reason.  It's 
not  pleasant  having  to  speak  so  of  him,  whom  we 
both  look  forward  to  as  our  future  father-in-law  ; 
but  when  he's  in  that  frame  of  m.ind  Heaven  and 
earth  wouldn't  move  him.  Nor  the  devil  frighten 
him  either.  You  remember  how  he  braved  Luns- 
ford,  and  that  precious  cousin  of  yours,  when  they 
came  to  collect  the  King's  loan.  True,  he  had  us, 
and  something  besides,  at  his  back.  But  without 
that  he'd  have  defied  them  all  the  same ;  ay,  had 
the  whole  Royalist  army  been  there  threatening 
him  with  instant  death." 

''That  I  fully  believe.  Yet  one  cannot  help 
admiring  his  independence  of  spirit — so  much  of 
manhood  in  it,  and  so  rare ! " 

"  Ay,  true.  But  in  that  case  too  much  reck- 
lessness. It  has  begot  danger,  and  may  bring 
disaster  upon  all  of  us — if  it  hasn't  already." 


THEIR  DEAR  ONES  IN  DANGER.  413 

The  last  words,  spoken  in  a  grave,  almost  de* 
spondent  tone,  fell  unpleasantly  on  the  ear  of 
Eustace  Trevor,  already  sufficiently  apprehensive  of 
the  thing  hinted  at. 

"  In  what  way,  colonel  ? "  he  queried  anxiously, 
"  Are  you  thinking  of  any  special  danger  ?  " 

"  I   am,  indeed  ;  and  to  our  dear  ones." 

"  But  how  ?     From  what — whom  i  " 

"  Rather  ask  *  from  where  ?  *  and  Til  answer 
'Monmouth.*  Now  that  the  Royalists  are  masters 
there,  almost  for  certain  theyUl  be  raiding  up  into 
the  Forest ;  and  likely,  too  likely,  a  party  pay  visit 
to  Hollymead.  That,  as  you  know,  Trevor,  were 
danger  enough  to  those  we  have  fears  for ! " 

"  But  now  that  their  father  has  gone  to  fetch 
them  away  ?     He  should  be  there  long  before  this." 

"And  long  before  this  may  be  too  late.  Just 
what  Fm  most  anxious  about — the  time  of  his 
arrival  at  Hollymead ;  for  I  know  he  won't  stay 
there  an  instant.  Poor  man  !  he's  sadly  repentant 
of  his  imprudent  act,  and  will  make  all  haste  to 
bring  them  back  with  him.  The  fear  is  of  the  flood 
having  delayed  him  too  long  at  starting — my  fear." 

"  Good  Heavens ! "  exclaimed  the  young  officer 
"let  us  hope  not." 

"If  Massey  were  here,"  continued  the  other,  a 
thought  striking  him,  "  Fd  ask  leave  to  go  after 
him.  Indeed,  I  feel  half-inclined  to  take  it,  with- 
out asking." 

"And  why  not.  Colonel.?  We  could  be  at  Ruar- 
dean  and  back  before  morning — riding  at  a  pace." 

Sir  Richard  was  silent,  seeming  to  ponder.  Only 
for  a  few  seconds ;  when,  as  if  resolved,  he  sprang 
Ko  his  feet,  saying, — 

"FU  risk  it,  whatever  the  result.  And  we  shall 
start  at  once,  taking  our  own  fellows  along  with 
us.     Hubert ! " 


414  ^O  QUARTER  ! 

Quick  as  the  call  came  the  trumpeter  from  att 
ante-room,  where  he  had  stayed  in  waiting.  To 
receive  the  order, — 

**To  the  men's  quarters,  and  sound  the  *  Assem- 
bly ' !     Lose  not  a  moment !  " 

And  not  a  moment  lost  the  trumpeter,  knowing 
that  when  Colonel  Walwyn  gave  an  order  in  such 
excited  strain  it  meant  promptest  obedience. 
Snatching  up  his  trumpet,  as  he  hurried  out  through 
the  ante-room,  he  was  in  the  street  in  an  instant 
hurrying  towards  the  cavalry  quarters. 


CHAPTER    LXIII. 

AN     EXCITING    EPISTLE. 

'* Trevor!"  cried  the  colonel  to  his  troop-captain, 
now  also  upon  his  feet,  and  sharing  his  excite- 
ment;  "send  out  an  orderly  to  summon  Harley 
and  our  other  officers.  Perhaps  you  had  best  go 
yourself.  You  know  where  to  find  them,  I  sup- 
pose ?  " 

"  I  think  I  do,  colonel." 

"  Use  all  despatch.  As  weVe  made  up  our 
minds  to  this  thing,  the  sooner  we're  in  the  saddle 
the  better." 

The  counsel  to  make  haste  was  little  called  for. 
Eustace  Trevor  itched  to  be  in  the  saddle,  as  ever 
disciple  of  St.  Hubert  on  the  first  day  of  fox- 
hunting. But  just  as  he  was  about  to  step  over 
the  threshold  of  the  outer  door,  he  saw  a  party 
approaching  evidently  with  the  design  to  enter. 
Two  individuals  they  were,  a  man  and  woman, 
still  within  the  dim  light  of  the  overshadowing 
houses.  For  all,  he  had  no  difficulty  in  recognising 
them.  Colossal  stature  as.  theirs  was  far  from 
common  ;  the  pair  being  Rob  Wilde  and  Winny. 

He  saw  them  with  some  surprise — at  least  the 
woman.  For  he  had  not  expected  seeing  her  there. 
There  she  was,  though ;  and,  as  quick  intuition 
told  him,  her  presence  might  have  sOme  bearing 
on  that  he  was  about  to  issue  forth,  for  he  e^waited 
their  comfng  up. 

4i§ 


4l6  NO  QUARTER  I 

Soon  they  stood  at  the  door,  face  to  face  with 
him  ;  the  sergeant  saluting  soldier  fashion,  while 
the  woman  curtseyed. 

"  You,  Winifred ! "  exclaimed  the  young  officer. 
"I  was  not  aware  of  your  being  in  Gloucester." 

"  Her  han't  been  in  it  more'n  ten  minutes, 
caiptain,"  said  the  sergeant,  speaking  for  her.  **  I 
ha'  just  lets  her  in  at  the  gate.  Her  be  wantin*  a 
word  wi*  the  colonel." 

"  She'll  be  welcome  to  that,  I'm  sure.  But  first 
go  in  yourself  and  see." 

This  was  in  accordance  with  military  etiquette, 
indeed  regulations;  no  stranger  admitted  to  the 
presence  of  a  commanding  officer  without  being 
announced,  and  permission  given.  Rob  himself 
came  hot  under  the  rule,  and  was  about  to  pass 
inside ;  when  a  thought  occurring  to  Captain 
Trevor,  the  latter  turned  upon  his  heel  and  pre 
ceded  him. 

"Well,  Wilde,  what  is  it?"  asked  Sir  Richard, 
as  they  entered  the  room.  Eagerly,  too,  seeing 
that  the  features  of  the  big  sergeant  wore  a  por- 
tentous expression.  "Any  trouble  with  your  gate- 
guard  ? " 

"  No,  Colonel ;  nothin'  o'  that." 

"Some  news  come  in?" 

"Just  so,  Sir  Richard  ;  an*  not  o'  the  best  neyther." 

'*  Indeed  !     What  news  ?     Whence  ? " 

"  Fra  Ruardean,  or,  to  speak  more  partickler,  fra 
Hollymead   House." 

Both  colonel  and  captain  were  now  all  ears.  No 
spot  on  the  habitable  globe  had  such  interest  for 
them  as  Hollymead  House,  and  from  nowhere  was 
intelligence  so  eagerly  desired. 

"  Tell  it,  sergeant ! "  was  the  impatient  command. 

"A  party  o'  the  King's  soldiers  be  quartered 
th^rq— ca^valry," 


AN  EkCiTtNG  JbiPistLE.  4tf 

**  O  God  !  "  exclaimed  Eustace  Trevor,  almost  in  a 
groan ;  the  knight  also  showing  grievously  affected. 

*'  How  did  you  get  this  news  ?" 

*  Win  ha*  brought  it." 

"Win.?'' 

"  Yes,  colonel.     Her  be  outside  the  door — waitin' 
permission  to  speak  wi'  you.     She  ha'  been  trusted 
wi'  a  letter  from  the  young  ladies." 
I     "  Bring  her  in — instantly  !  " 

;i  "Singular  coincidence,  Trevor!"  said  Sir  Richard, 
as  the  sergeant  passed  out.  "Already  at  Holly- 
mead  !     Just  what  we've  been  fearing  !  " 

"Indeed,  so.  And  all  the  more  reason  for  our 
being  there  too." 

"I  wonder  who  they  are.     Lingen's,  think  you.^" 

"  Rob  says  they're  quartered  there.  That  would 
hardly  be  Lingen'a — so  near  his  own  garrison  at 
Goodrich.^  More  like  some  of  Lord  Herbert's  Horse 
from  Monmouth.     And  I  hope  it  may  be  they." 

"  Ah  !  true  ;  it  might  be  worse.  But  we'll  soon 
hear.  The  cadgeress  can  tell,  no  doubt ;  or  it'll 
be  in  the  letter." 

The  door,  reopening,  showed  the  Forest  Amazon 
outside,  Rob  conducting  her  in.  They  could  see 
that  she  was  wet  to  the  waist,  her  saturated  skirt 
dinging  around  limbs  of  noble  outline ;  while  her 
heaving  bosom  with  the  heightened  colour  of  her 
cheeks,  told  of  a  journey  but  just  completed,  and 
made  in  greatest  haste. 

"You  have  a  letter  for  me?"  said  Sir  Richard 
interrogatively,  as  she  stepped  inside  the  room. 

"  Yes,  your  honner,  fra  Hollymead." 

She  spoke  with  hand  raised  to  her  head,  as  if 
adjusting  one  of  the  plaits  of  her  hair.  Instead, 
she  was  searching  among  them  for  the  concealed 
epistle.  Which,  soon  found,  was  handed  over  to 
him   for  whom  it  was  intended* 


41 8  NO  quarter! 

No  surprise  to  Sir  Richard  at  seeing  a  thing 
more  like  curl-paper  than  letter.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  for  him  to  receive  such,  in  a  similar  way ; 
and,  straightening  it  out  under  the  lamplight,  he 
was  soon  acquainted  with  its  contents. 

So  far  from  having  the  effect  of  allaying  his 
excitement  they  but  increased  it,  and  he  cried  out 
to  the  sergeant,  as  he  had  to  the  trumpeter, — 

"  Quick  to  the  men's  quarters,  Wilde,  and  help 
getting  all  ready  for  the  route !  Hubert's  there  by 
this  time,  and  will  have  sounded  the  *  Assembly.* 
Read  that,  Trevor !  There's  something  that  con- 
cerns you,"  and  he  handed  the  letter  to  his  troop- 
captain. 

The  sergeant  hurried  away,  leaving  Win  to  be 
further  questioned  by  the  colonel.  And  while  this 
was  going  on  the  young  officer  perused  the  epistle, 
to  be  affected  by  it  in  a  similar  fashion.  It  ran 
thus : — 

"111  tidings,  Richard.  Prince  Rupert  here,  with 
his  escort — about  two  hundred.  Has  just  arrived, 
and  intends  staying  the  night;  indeed,  till  father 
return  home,  he  says.  I  hope  father  will  not  come 
home,  unless  you  come  with  him.  I'm  sure  they 
mean  him  harm.  That  horrid  man,  Lunsford,  is 
in  the  Prince's  suit ;  Reginald  Trevor  too.  Winny 
will  tell  you  more;  I  fear  to  lose  time  in  writing. 
Dear  RicJiard  I  come  if  you  can!' 

So  the  body  of  the  epistle,  with  below  a  post- 
script, in  a  different  handwriting,  well  known  to 
Eustace  Trevor  : — 

"  Dearest  Eustace  !  we  are  in  danger,  I  do  believe." 

The  words  were  significant ;  and  no  form  of 
appeal  for  rescue  could  have  been  more  pressing. 
Nor  was  such  needed ;  neither  any  urging  of  haste 
upon  the  men  thus  admonished. 

Never  was  squadron    of   cavalry  sooner    in  the 


AN    EXCITING   EPISTLE.  419 

saddle,  after  getting  orders,  than  was  "Walwyn's 
Horse"  on  that  night.  In  less  than  twenty  minutes 
later,  they  went  at  a  gallop  through  the  north- 
western gate  of  Gloucester,  opened  to  give  them 
exit ;  then  on  along  the  flooded  causeway,  riding 
rowells  deep,  plunging  and  flinging  the  spray-drops 
high  in  air,  till  every  man  was  dripping  wet,  from 
the  plume  in  his  hat  to  the  spurs  upon  his  heels. 


CHAPTER   LXIV. 

A  HOUSE  ON   FIRE. 

The  moon  had  risen,  but  only  to  be  seen  at  In- 
tervalSc  Heavy  cumuli  drifting  sluggishly  athwart 
the  sky,  now  and  then  drew  curtain-like  over  her 
disk,  making  the  earth  dark  as  Erebus.  Between 
these  recurrent  cloud  eclipses,  however,  her  light  was 
of  the  clearest ;  for  the  atmosphere  otherwise  was 
without  haze  or  mist. 

She  was  shining  in  full  effulgence,  as  a  body  of 
horsemen  commenced  breasting  the  pitch  which 
winds  up  from  Mitcheldean  to  the  Wilderness. 
Their  distinctive  standard  was  sheathed — not  need- 
ing display  in  the  night ;  but  the  green  uniforms, 
and  the  cocks*-tail  feathers  pluming  their  hats, 
told  them  to  be  Walwyn's  Horse — the  Foresters. 

They  were  still  wet  with  the  flood-water  through 
which  they  had  waded  after  clearing  the  gates  of 
Gloucester.  Their  horses  too ;  the  coats  of  these 
further  darkened  by  sweat,  save  where  the  flakes 
of  white  froth,  tossed  back  on  their  necks  and 
counters,  gave  them  a  piebald  apppearance.  All 
betokened  a  terrible  pace,  and  such  had  they  kept 
up,  scarce  slowing  for  an  instant  from  the  flood's 
edge  till  they  entered  the  town  of  Mitcheldean. 

Then  it  was  but  a  momentary  halt  in  the  street, 
and  without  leaving  the  saddle  ;  just  long  enough 
to  inquire  whether  Master  Ambrose  Powell  had 
that  day  passed  through  the  place.     He  had  ;  late 


A  HOUSE  ON   FIRE.  42 1 

in  the  afternoon.  On  horseback,  without  any 
attendant,  and  apparently  in  great  haste. 

**  Prisoner  or  not,  they  have  him  at  Hollymead 
now,"  observed  Sir  Richard  to  Eustace  Trevor,  as 
they  trotted  on  through  the  town  to  the  foot  of 
the  hill  where  the  road  runs  up  to  the  Wilderness, 

To  gallop  horses  already  blown  again-st  that 
steep  acclivity  would  have  been  to  kill  them.  But 
the  leader  of  the  party,  familiar  with  it,  did  not 
put  them  to  the  test ;  instead,  commanded  a  walk. 
And  while  riding  side  by  side,  he  and  his  troop- 
captain  held  something  of  a  lengthened  conversa- 
tion, up  to  that  time  only  a  few  hurried  words 
having  been  exchanged  between  them. 

"  I  wish  the  letter  had  been  a  little  more  explicit 
as  to  their  numbers,"  said  Sir  Richard.  "About 
two  hundred  may  mean  three,  or  only  one.  A 
woman's  estimate  is  not  the  most  reliable  in  such 
matters." 

"What  did  the  cadgeress  say  of  it,  Colonel?  You 
questioned  her,  I  suppose  ?  " 

"  Minutely  ;  but  to  no  purpose.  She  only  came 
to  the  house  after  they  had  scattered  all  around 
it^  and,  of  course,  had  no  definite  idea  of  their 
number.  So  we  shan't  know  how  many  we'll  have 
to  cross  swords  with,  till  we  get  upon  the  ground." 

"  If  we  have  the  chance  to  cross  swords  with  any. 
I  only  wish  we  were  sure  of  that." 

"  The  deuce !  They  may  be  gone  away,  you 
tnink?" 

"  Rather  fear  it.  Sir  Richard.  Powell  must  have 
reached  Hollymead  before  nightfall  ;  and  if  they 
intended  making  him  a  prisoner  'twould  be  done  at 
once  ;  with  no  object  for  their  staying  afterwards." 

**  Unless  they  have  done  a  long  day's  march,  and 
meant  to  quarter  there  for  the  night.  If  they  went 
thither  direct   from    Bristol,  which    is    like  enough, 


4^2  NO  quarter! 

that's  just  what  they'd  do ;  stay  the  night,  and 
start  back  for  Bristol  in  the  morning." 

**  I  have  fears,  Colonel,  we  won't  find  it  so.  More 
likely  the  Prince  was  at  Monmouth  on  account  of 
what's  happened  there  ;  and  will  return  to  it — has 
returned  already," 

*'If  so,  Trevor,  'twill  be  a  black  night  for  you 
and  me ;  a  bitter  disappointment,  and  something 
worse.  If  he's  gone  from  Hollymead,  so  will  they 
— father,  daughters,  all.  Ruperts  not  tke  sort  to 
leave  such  behind,  with  an  abettor  like  Tom 
Lunsford.  As  for  your  cousin,  remember  how  you 
crossed  him.  It's  but  natural  he  should  feel  spite- 
ful, and  show  it  in  that  quarter." 

"  If  he  do,  I'll  cross  him  worse  when  we  come 
to  crossing  swords.  And  I'll  find  the  chance. 
We've  made  mutual  promise  to  give  no  quarter 
— almost  sworn  it.  If  ill  befall  Vaga  Powell 
through  him,  I'll  keep  that  promise  faithfully  as 
any  oath." 

"But  right  you  should.  And  for  settling  scores 
you  may  soon  have  the  opportunity ;  I  trust  within 
the  hour." 

"  Then,  Colonel,  jyou  think  they'll  still  be  at 
Hollymead." 

"  I  hope  it  rather ;  grounding  my  hope  on  an- 
other habit  of  this  German  Prince.  One  he  has 
late  been  indulging  to  excess,  'tis  said." 

"  Drink  ? " 

"Just  so.  In  the  which  Lunsford,  with  head 
hard  as  his  heart,  will  stand  by  him  cup  for  cup." 

"  But  can  that  affect  their  staying  at  Hollymead  ?  " 

"  Certainly  it  can  ;  probably  will."  , 

"  How,  Sir  Richard  ?  " 

**  By  their  getting  inebriated  there ;  or,  at  all 
events,  enough  so  to  make  them  careless  about 
moving  off  before  the  morning.    The  more,  as  they 


A  HOUSE  ON   FIRE.  423 

can't  be  expecting  any  surprise  from  this  side. 
You  remember  there  was  a  fair  stock  of  wine  in 
the  cellars  when  we  were  there,  best  sorts  too. 
Let  loose  at  that,  they're  likely  to  stay  by  it  as 
long  as  the  tap  runs." 

"  God  grant  it  may  run  till  morning  then  I "  was 
the  prayer  of  the  young  officer,  fervently  spoken. 
In  his  ways  of  thought  and  speech  two  years' 
campaigning  had  made  much  change,  deepening 
the  gravity  of  one  naturally  of  serious  turn. 

"  No  matter  about  morning,"  rejoined  Sir  Richard. 
•If  it  but  hold  out  for  another  hour,  and  we  find 
them  there,  something  else  will  then  be  running  red 
as  the  wine.  Ah,  Master  Lunsford !  One  more 
meeting  with  you,  that's  what  I  want  now.  If  I'm 
lucky  enough  to  have  it  this  night,  this  night  will 
be  the  last  of  your  life." 

The  apostrophe,  which  was  but  a  mental  reflec- 
tion, had  reference  to  something  Sabrina  had  been 
telling  him,  vividly  recalled  by  the  words  in  her 
latest  letter,  "  that  horrid  man." 

At  the  same  instant,  and  in  similar  strain,  was 
Eustace  Trevor  reflecting  about  his  Cousin 
Reginald  ;  making  mental  vow  that,  if  Vaga  suflered 
shame  by  him,  neither  would  his  life  be  of  long 
endurance. 

By  this  they  had  surmounted  the  pitch,  and 
arrived  at  a  spot  both  had  good  reason  to  remember. 
It  was  the  piece  of  level  turf  where  once  baring 
blades  they  had  come  so  near  sending  one  or 
other  oat  of  the  world.  Their  horses  remembered 
it  too — they  were  still  riding  the  same — and  with 
a  recollection  which  had  a  result  quaintly  comical. 
Soon  as  on  the  ground,  without  check  of  rein  or 
word  said,  they  came  to  a  sudden  halt,  turned  head 
to  head,  snorting  and  angry-like,  as  if  expecting  <| 
renewa,!  of  the  combat ! 


424  NO  quarter! 

All  the  more  strange  this  behaviour  on  the  part 
of  the  animals,  that,  since  their  hostilie  encounter, 
for  now  over  two  years  they  had  been  together  in 
amiable  association  ! 

A  circumstance  so  odd,  so  ludicrous,  could  not 
fail  to  excite  the  risibility  of  their  riders  ;  and  laugh 
both  did,  despite  their  serious  mood  at  the  moment. 
To  their  following  it  but  caused  surprise  ;  two 
alone  comprehending,  so  far  as  to  see  the  fun  of 
it.  These  Hubert,  the  trumpeter,  and  the  **  light 
varlit "  then  so  near  coming  to  blows  with  him,  who 
through  thick  and  thin,  had  ever  since  stuck  to 
the  ex-gentleman  usher,  his  master. 

No  doubt  the  little  interlude  would  have  led  to 
some  speech  about  it,  between  the  chief  actors  in 
the  more  serious  encounter  it  recalled,  but  for 
something  at  that  moment  seen  by  them,  turning 
their  thoughts  into  a  new  channel.  Away  west- 
ward, beyond  Drybrook,  beyond  Ruardean  Ridge, 
the  sky  showed  a  clearness  that  had  nought  to  do 
with  the  moon's  light ;  instead  was  ruddier,  and 
shone  brighter,  as  this  became  obscured  by  a  thick 
cloud  drifting  over  her  disk.  A  glowing,  gleaming 
light,  unusual  in  a  way ;  but  natural  enough  re- 
garded as  the  glare  of  a  conflagration — which  in 
reality  it  was. 

"House  on  fire  over  yonder!"  cried  one  of  the 
soldiers. 

"  May  be  only  a  haystack,"  suggested  a  second. 

''More  like  a  town,  judgin*  by  the  big  blaze/' 
reasoned  a  third. 

"There's  no  town  in  that  .direction;  only  Ruar- 
dean, where's  we  be  goin'."     * 

"  Why  maunt  it  be  Ruardean,  then  ?  "  queried  the 
first  speaker ;  **  or  the  church  ? " 

"  An*  a  good  thing  ift  be  the  church,"  put  in 
one    of    strong     Puritan    proclivities.      "  It    want 


A   HOUSE  ON   FIRE.  425 

burnin'  down,  as  every  other,  wi'  their  altars  an' 
images.  They  be  a  curse  to  the  country ;  the 
parsons  too.  TheyVe  taken  sides  wi'  the  stinkin' 
Cavaliers,  agaynst  Parliament  and  people,  all  along." 

"That's  true,"  endorsed  another  of  like  icono- 
clastic sentiments  ;  "an*  if  it  a'nt  the  church  as  be 
givin'  up  that  light,  let's  luminate  it  when  we  get 
there.     I  go  for  that." 

A  proposal  which  called  forth  a  chorus  of  assent- 
ing responses. 

While  this  play  of  words  was  in  progress  along 
the  line  of  rank  and  file  rearwards,  the  Colonel  and 
Captain  Trevor,  at  its  head,  were  engaged  in  a 
dialogue  of  conjectures  about  the  same — a  brief  one. 

*'What  think  you  it  is.?"  asked  Sir  Richard,  as 
they  sat  halted  in  their  saddles  regarding  the 
garish  light.  "It  looks  to  be  over  Ruardean,  or 
near  it." 

"A  fire  of  some  kind,  Colonel.  No  common  one 
either." 

"A  farmer's  rick  .?" 

"  I  fear  not ;  would  we  were  sure  of  its  being 
only  that ! " 

"  Ha !     A  house  you  think  ?  " 

*'I  do.  Sir  Richard." 

«And .?" 

**  The  one  we're  making  for ! " 

**  By  Heavens !  I  believe  it  is.  It  bears  that 
way  to  a  point.  Ruardean's  more  to  the  right 
Yes,  it  must  be   Hollymead!" 

Both  talked  excitedly,  but  no  more  words  passed 
between  them  there  and  then.  The  next  heard 
was  the  command — "  March — double  quick  !  "  and 
down  the  hill  to  Drybrook  went  they  at  a  gallop 
over  the  tiny  stream,  and  up  the  long  winding 
slope  round  the  shoulder  of  Ruardean  Hill — with- 
out  halt   or  draw   on   bridle.      There  only  poising 


426  NO  quarter! 

for  an  instant,  as  they  came  within  view  of  the 
village  and  saw  the  conflagration  was  not  in,  but 
wide  away  from  it ;  the  glare  and  sparks  ascending 
over  the  spot  where  Hollymead  House  should  be, 
but  was  no  more. 

As,  continuing  their  gallop,  they  rode  in  through 
the  park  gates,  it  was  to  see  a  vast  blazing  pile, 
like  a  bonfire  built  by  Titans — the  fagots'  great 
beams  heaped  together  confusedly — from  which 
issued  a  hissing  and  crackling,  with  at  intervals 
loud  explosions,  as  from  an  ordnance  magazine  on 
fire. 


CHAPTER   LXV. 

VERY  NEAR  AN   ENCOUNTER. 

MiTCHELDEAN  lies  at  the  foot  of  the  steep  faqade 
already  spoken  of  as  forming  a  periphery  to  the 
elevated  Forest  district.  The  slope  ascends  direct 
from  the  western  skirts  of  the  little  town ;  but 
outlying  ridges  also  inclose  it  on  the  north,  east, 
and  south,  so  that  even  the  tall  spire  of  its  church 
IS  invisible  from  any  great  distance.  Sp  situated, 
railways  give  it  a  wide  berth ;  and  few  places 
better  deserve  the  title  "secluded."  The  only  sort 
of  traveller  who  ever  thinks  of  paying  it  a  visit 
is  the  "  commercial,"  or  some  pedestrian  tourist, 
crossing  the  Forest  from  the  Severn  side  to  view 
the  more  picturesque  scenery  of  the  Wye,  witK  in- 
tention to  make  stoppage  at  the  ancient  hostelry 
of  the  Speech  House,  midway  between. 

In  the  days  of  the  saddle  and  pack-horse,  how- 
ever, things  were  different  with  Mitcheldean. 
Being  on  one  of  the  direct  routes  of  travel  from 
the  metropolis  to  South  Wales,  and  a  gate  of 
entry,  as  it  were,  to  the  Forest  on  its  eastern  side, 
it  was  then  a  place  of  considerable  note ;  its  people 
accustomed  to  all  sorts  of  wayfarers  passing  daily, 
hourly  through  it. 

Since  the  breaking  out  of  the  Rebellion  these 
had  been  mostly  of  the  military  kind,  though  not 
confined  to  either  party  in  the  strife.  One  would 
march  through  to-day,   the    other    to-morrow;    so 


428  NO  quarter! 

that,  hearing  the  trample  of  hoofs,  rarely  could  the 
townsmen  tell  whether  Royalists  or  Parliamenta- 
rians were  coming  among  them,  till  they  saw  their 
standards  in  the  street. 

They  would  rather  have  received  visit  from 
neither  ;  but,  compelled  to  choose,  preferred  seeing 
the  soldiers  of  the  Parliament.  So  when  Walwyn*s 
Horse  came  rattling  along,  their  green  coats,  with 
the  cocks'-tail  feathers  in  their  hats,  distinguish- 
able in  the  clear  moonlight,  the  closed  window 
shutters  were  flung  open  ;  and  night-capped  heads 
—  for  most  had  been  abed  —  appeared  in  them 
without  fear  exchanging  speech  with  the  soldiers 
halted  in  the  street  below. 

Altogether  different  their  behaviour  when,  in  a 
oiatter  of  ten  minutes  after,  a  second  party  of  horse- 
men came  to  a  halt  under  their  windows  ;  these  in 
scarlet  coats,  gold  laced,  with  white  ostrich  feathers 
in  their  hats — the  Prince  of  Wales's  plume,  with  its 
appropriate  motto  of  servility,  ^^  Ich  dien!' 

Seeing  it,  the  townsmen  drew  in  their  heads, 
closed  the  shutters,  and  were  silent.  Not  going 
back  to  their  beds,  however ;  but  to  sit  up  in  fear 
and  trembling,  till  the  renewed  hoof-strokes  told 
them  of  the  halt  over,  and  the  red-coated  Cavaliers 
ridden  off  again. 

It  need  scarce  be  said  that  these  were  Rupert 
and  his  escort,  en  route  for  Westbury ;  and  had 
Walwyn's  Horse  stopped  ten  minutes  longer  in 
Mitcheldean,  the  two  bodies  would  have  there  met 
face  to  face  ;  since  they  were  proceeding  in  op- 
posite directions.  A  mere  accident  hindered  their 
encountering ;  the  circumstance,  that  from  the 
town  two  roads  led  up  to  the  Forest,  one  on  each 
side  of  the  Wilderness,  both  again  uniting  in  the 
valley  of  Drybrook.  The  northern  route  had  been 
taken     by    the     Parliamentarian    party    ascending; 


VERY  NEAR  AN   ENCOUNTER,  429 

while  the  Royalists  descended  by  the  southern 
one,  called  the  "Plump  Hill."  Just  at  such  time 
as  to  miss  one  another,  though  but  by  a  few 
minutes.  For  the  rearmost  files  of  the  former  had 
barely  cleared  the  skirts  of  the  town  going  out, 
when  the  van  of  the  latter  entered  it  at  a  different 
point. 

The  interval,  however,  was  long  enough  to  pre- 
vent those  who  went  Forestwards  from  getting 
information  of  what  they  were  leaving  so  close 
behind  Could  they  have  had  that,  quick  would 
have  been  their  return  down  hill,  and  the  streets 
of  Mitcheldean  the  arena  of  a  conflict  to  the  cry, 
"No  Quarter!" 

As  it  was,  the  hostile  cohorts  passed  peacefully 
through,  out,  and  onwards  on  their  respective 
routes  ;  though  Prince  Rupert  knew  how  near  he 
had  been  to  a  collision,  and  could  still  have 
brought  it  on.  But  that  was  the  last  thing  in 
his  thoughts ;  instead,  soon  as  learning  what  had 
gone  up  to  the  Forest,  who  they  were,  and  who 
their  leader,  his  stay  in  Mitcheldean  was  of  the 
shortest,  and  his  way  out  of  it  not  Forestwards 
but  straight  on  for  the  Severn. 

And  in  all  the  haste  he  could  make,  cumbered 
as  he  was  with  captives.  For  he  carried  with  him 
a  captive  train  ;  a  small  one,  consisting  of  but 
three  individuals — scarce  necessary  to  say,  Ambrose 
Powell  and  his  daughters.  They  were  on  horse- 
back ;  the  ladies  wrapped  in  cloaks,  and  so  close 
hooded  that  their  faces  were  invisible.  Even  their 
figures  were  so  draped  as  to  be  scarce  distinguish- 
able from  those  of  men  ;  all  done  with  a  design, 
not  their  own,  but  that  of  those  who  had  them  in 
charge.  In  passing  through  Mitcheldean  precau- 
tions had  been  taken  to  hinder  their  being  re- 
cognised ;    double    files    of    their  guards   riding  in 


430  NO  quarter! 

close  order  on  each  side  of  them,  so  that  curious 
eyes  should  not  come  too  near.  But,  when  once 
more  out  on  the  country  road,  the  formation  "  by 
twos  *'  was  resumed ;  the  trio  of  prisoners,  each 
with  a  trooper  right  and  left,  conducted  behind 
the  knot  of  officers  on  the  Prince's  personal  staff, 
he  himself  with  Lunsford  leading. 

Soon  as  outside  the  town  the  two  last,  as  usual 
riding  together,  and  some  paces  in  the  advance, 
entered  on  dialogue  of  a  confidential  character. 
The  Prince  commenced  it,  saying, — 

**  We've  had  a  narrow  escape,  Sir  Thomas." 

"  Does  your  Highness  refer  to  our  having  missed 
meeting  the  party  of  Roundheads?" 

"  Of  course  I  do— just  that." 

"Then,  I  should  say,  'tis  they  whoVe  had  the 
narrow  escape." 

**  NeiUy  Colonel !  Not  so  certain  of  that,  know- 
ing who  they  are.  These  Foresters  fight  like 
devils ;  and,  from  all  I  could  gather,  they  greatly 
outnumber  us.  I  shouldn't  so  much  mind  the 
odds,  biit  for  how  we're  hampered.  To  have  fought 
them,  and  got  the  worst  of  it,  would  have  been 
ruinous  to  our  reputation — as  to  the  other  thing." 

"  It  isn't  likely  we'd  have  got  the  worst  of  it. 
Few  get  the  better  of  your  Highness  that  way." 

Lunsford's  brave  talk  was  not  in  keeping  with 
his  thoughts.  Quite  as  pleased  was  he  as  the 
Prince  at  their  having  escaped  an  encounter  with 
the  party  of  Parliamentarians.  For  never  man 
dreaded  meeting  man  more  than  he  Sir  Richard 
Walwyn.  Words  had  of  late  been  conveyed  to 
him — from  camp  to  camp  and  across  neutral  lines 
— warning  words,  that  his  old  enemy  was  more 
than  ever  incensed  against  him,  and  in  any  future 
conflict  where  the  two  should  be  engaged  meant 
singling  him  put,  and  seeking  his  life.    After  what 


VERY  NEAR  AN  ENCOUNTEIL  43t 

hie  had  done  now,  was  still  doing,  he  knew  ant>thef 
encounter  with  Walwyn  would  be  one  of  life  and 
death,  and  dreaded  it  accordingly. 

*'  Still,  Prince,"  he  added,  "  as  you  observe,  con- 
sidering our  encumbrances,  perhaps  it's  been  for 
the  best  letting  them  off." 

"Ay,  if  they  let  us  off.  Which  they  may  not 
yet.  Suppose  some  of  the  townsmen  have  fol- 
lowed, and  told  them  of  our  passing  through } " 

*'  No  fear  of  that,  Prince.  If  any  one  did  follow 
it's  not  likely  they  could  be  overtaken,  They  were 
riding  as  in  a  race,  and  won't  draw  bridle  till  they 
see  the  blaze  over  HoUymead.  Then  they'll  but 
gallop  the  faster — in  the  wrong  direction.'* 

"  The  right  one  for  us,  if  they  do.  But  even  so 
they  would  reach  HoUymead  in  less  than  an  hour  ; 
then  turn  short  round  to  pursue,  and  in  another 
hour  be  upon  our  heels.  You  forget  that  we 
can't  say  safety,  till  we're  over  the  Severn." 

"  I  don't  forget  that.  Prince.  But  they  won't 
turn  round  to  pursue  us." 

"Why  say  you  that,  Sir  Thomas?  How  know 
you  they  won't  ? " 

"Because  they  won't  suspect  our  having  come 
this  way ;  never  think  of  it.  Before  putting  the 
torch  to  the  old  delinquent's  house,  I  took  the 
precaution  to  have  all  his  domestics  locked  up 
in  an  out-building  ;  that  they  shouldn't  see  which 
way  we  went  off.  As  they  and  the  Ruardean 
people  knew  we  came  up  from  Monmouth,  they'll 
naturally  conclude  that  we  returned  thither.  So, 
your  Highness,  any  pursuit  of  us  will  take  the 
direction  down  Cat's  Hill,  instead  of  by  Drybrook 
and  down  the  Plump." 

"  Egad  !  I  hope  so,  Colonel.  For,  to  speak  truth 
I  don't  feel   in  the  spirit  for  a  fight  just  now." 

It  was  not  often  Rupert  gave  way  to  coward  ice. 


43^  NO  quarter! 

and  more  seldom  confessed  it ;  even  in  confidence 
to  his  familiars,  of  whom  Lunsford  was  one  of 
the  most  intimate.  But  at  that  hour  he  felt  it 
to  very  fear.  Perhaps  from  the  wine  he  had 
drunk  at  Hollymead,  now  cold  in  him  ;  and  it 
might  be  his  conscience  weighted  with  the  crime 
he  was  in  the  act  of  committing.  Whatever  the 
cause,  his  nervousness  became  heightened  rather 
than  diminished,  as  they  marched  on ;  and 
anxiously  longed  he  to  be  on  the  other  side  of 
the  Severn. 

Not  more  so  than  his  reprobate  companion, 
whose  bravado  was  all  assumed  ;  his  words  of  con- 
fidence forced  from  him  to  gloss  over  the  mistake 
he  had  made,  in  recommending  the  route  taken. 
Sorry  was  he  now,  as  his  superior,  they  had  not 
gone  by  Monmouth.  Within  its  Castle  walls 
they  would  at  that  moment  have  been  safe ;  in- 
stead of  hurrying  along  a  road,  with  the  obstruc- 
tion of  a  river  in  front,  and  the  possibility  of 
pursuit  behind.  Ay,  the  probability  of  it,  as 
Lunsford  himself  knew  well,  feigning  to  ignore  it. 

"In  any  case,  your  Highness,"  he  continued, 
in  the  same  strain  of  encouragement,  "we'll  be 
out  of  their  way  in  good  time.  From  here  it's 
but  a  step  down  to   Westbury.'* 

By  this  they  had  reached  the  head  of  the  ravine- 
like valley  in  which  stands  Flaxley  Abbey,  and 
were  hastening  forward  fast  as  the  impedimenta  of 
captives  would  permit.  The  road  runs  down  the 
valley,  which,  after  several  sinuosities,  debouches  on 
the  Severn's  plain.  But,  long  before  attaining  this, 
at  rounding  one  of  the  turns,  their  eyes  were 
greeted  by  a  sight  which  sent  tremor  to  their  hearts. 

"  Mein  Gott  I "  cried  the  Prince,  suddenly  rein- 
ing up,  and  speaking  in  a  tone  of  mingled  sur- 
prise and  alarm,  "you  see,  Sir  Thomas?*' 


VERY   NEAR  AN   ENCOUNTER.  433 

Sir  Thomas  did  see — sharing  the  other's  alarm, 
but  without  showing  it — a  sheet  of  water  that 
shone  silvery  white  under  the  moonlight  over- 
spreading all  the  plain  below.  The  river  aflood, 
and  inundation  everywhere  ! 

"  We'll  not  be  able  to  cross  at  all  ? "  pursued 
the  Prince,  in  desponding  interrogative.  "Shall 
we.?" 

"  Oh  yes !  your  Highness,  I  think  so,"  was  the 
doubting  response.  "  The  water  can't  be  so  high 
as  to  hinder  us  ;  at  least  not  likely.  There's  a 
pier-head  at  Westbury  Passage  on  both  sides,  and 
the  boats  will  be  there  as  ever.  I  don't  antici- 
pate any  great  difficulty  in  the  crossing,  only  we'll 
have  to  wade  a  bit." 

**GoU/  that  will  be  difficulty  enough  —  danger 
too." 

*'What  danger,  your  Highness.?  Through  the 
meadows  there's  a  raised  causeway,  and  fortu- 
nately I'm  familiar  with  every  inch  of  it.  While 
with  Sir  John  Wintour  I  had  often  occasion  to 
travel  it ;  more  than  once  ,  under  water.  Even  if 
we  can't  make  the  Westbury  Passage,  we  can  that 
of  Framilode,  but  a  mile  or  two  above.  I've 
never  heard  of  it  being  so  flooded  as  to  prevent 
passing  over." 

"  It  may  be  as  you  say,  Sir  Thomas.  But  the 
danger  I'm  thinking  of  has  more  to  do  with  time 
than  floods.  Wading's  slow  work  ;  and  there's 
still  the  possibility  of  Walwyn  and  his  green- 
coats  coming  on  after  us.  Suppose  they  should, 
and  find  us  floundering  through  the  water?" 

"  No  need  supposing  that,  Prince.  There  isn't 
the  slightest  likelihood  of  it.  I'd  stake  high  that 
at  this  minute  they're  at  the  bottom  of  Cat's  Hill, 
or,  it  may  be,  by  Goodrich  Ferry,  seeking  to  cross 
Qver  the    Wye   a,s  we   th^    Severn.      And,    like    as 


434  NO  quarter! 

not,  Lingen  will  give  them  a  turn  if  he  gets  word 
of  their  being  about  there.  Sir  Harry  has  now  a 
strong  force  in  the  castle ;  and  owes  Dick  Walwyn 
a  revanche — for  that  affair  on  the  Hereford  Road 
the  morning  after  Kyrle  led  them  into  Monmouth.*' 

"  For  all,  I  wish  we  had  gone  Monmouth  way/* 
rejoined  Rupert,  as  his  eyes  rested  doubtingly 
on  the  white  sheet  of  water  wide  spread  over  the 
plain  below.     "I  still  fear  their  pursuing  us." 

"Even  if  they  should,  your  Highness,  we  need 
have  no  apprehension.  The  pursuit  can't  be 
immediate ;  and,  please  God,  in  another  hour  or 
so,  we'll  be  over  the  Severn,  as  likely  they  on 
the  other  side  of  the  Wye,  with  both  rivers  be- 
tween them  and  us." 

''Would  that  I  were  sure  of  that,  Colonel,"  re- 
turned the  Prince,  still  desponding,  "  which  I'm 
fiOt.  However,  we've  no  alternative  now  but  to 
cross  here — if  we  can.  You  seem  to  have  a  doubt 
of  our  being  able  to  make  the  Passage  of  West- 
bury?" 

**  I'm  only  a  little  uncertain  about  it,  your 
Highness." 

"  But  sure  about  that  of  Framilode  ?  " 

"  Quite ;  though  the  flood  be  of  the  biggest 
and  deepest." 

^^  Ser  wokll  -with,  that  assurance  I'm  satisfied. 
But  we  must  have  things  secure  behind,  ere  we 
commence  making  our  wade.  And  we  may  as 
well  take  the  step  now.  So,  Colonel,  ride  back 
along  the  line,  detach  a  rear-guard,  and  place  it 
under  some  officer  who  can  be  trusted.  Lose  not 
a  moment.  I  stay  at  halt  here,  till  you  return 
to  me." 

The  commanding  officer  of  the  escort,  as  much 
alive  to  the  prudence  of  this  precaution  as  he  who 
gave  th^    orders  for  it,  hastened   to  carrying  them 


VERY  NEAR  AN  ENCOUNTER.  43i 

Out.  Done  by  detailing  off  a  few  of  the  rear- 
most files,  with  directions  to  remain  as  they  were, 
while  the  main  body  moved  forward.  Then  in- 
structions given  to  the  officer  who  was  to  take 
charge  of  them  ;  all  occupying  less  than  ten 
minutes'  time. 

After  which,  Lunsford  again  placed  himself  by 
the  side  of  the  Prince,  and  the  march  was  imme- 
diately resumed,  down  the  valley  of  Flaxley,  on 
for  the  flooded  plain. 


CHAPTER    LXVL 

ON    THE    TRAIL. 

Words  cannot  depict  the  feelings  of  Sir  Richard 
Walwyn  and  Eustace  1  revor  as  they  reined  up  by 
the  burning  house.  With  both  it  was  anguish  of 
the  keenest ;  for  they  knew  who  were  the  incen- 
diaries, and  that  incendiarism  was  not  the  worst 
of  it.  They  who  ruthlessly  kindled  the  flames  had, 
with  like  ruth,  carried  off  their  betrothed  ones. 
And  for  What  purpose  ?  A  question  neither  colonel 
nor  captain  could  help  asking  himself,  though  its 
conjectural  answer  was  agony.  For  now  more 
vividly  than  ever  did  Sir  Richard  recall  what  had 
been  told  him  of  Lunsford's  designs  upon  Sabrina ; 
while  Trevor  had  also  heard  of  Prince  Rupert's 
partiality  for  Vaga. 

As  they  sate  in  their  saddles  contemplating  the 
ruin,  they  felt  as  might  an  American  frontiersman, 
returned  home  to  find  his  cabin  ablaze,  fired  by 
Indian  torch,  his  wife  or  daughters  borne  off  in 
the  brutal  embrace  of  the  savage. 

No  better  fate  seemed  to  have  befallen  the 
daughters  of  Ambrose  Powell.  White  savages, 
very  tigers,  had  seized  upon  and  dragged  them 
to  their  lair ;  it  were  no  worse  if  red  ones  had 
been  the  captors.  Rather  would  the  bereaved 
lovers  have  had  it  so  ;  sooner  known  their  sweet- 
hearts buried  under  that   blazing  pile  than   in  the 

43« 


ON   THE  TRAIU  437 

arms  of  the  profligate  Rupert  and  Lunsford  the 
"  bloody." 

Only  for  an  instant  did  they  give  way  to  their 
anguish,  or  the  anger  which  accompanied  it — rage 
almost  to  madness.  Both  were  controlled  by  the 
necessity  of  action,  and  the  first  wild  burst  over, 
action  was  taken— pursuit  of  the  ravishers. 

Some  time,  however,  before  it  could  be  fairly 
entered  upon ;  inquiry  made  as  to  the  direction 
in  which  they  had  gone.  There  were  hundreds  on 
the  ground  who  could  be  interrogated.  Half  the 
people  of  Ruardean  were  there.  Roused  from  their 
beds  by  the  cry  "  Fire ! "  they  had  rushed  out,  and 
on  to  the  scene  of  conflagration.  But  arrived  too 
late  to  witness  the  departure  of  those  who  had  set 
the  torch,  and  could  not  tell  what  way  they  had  gone. 
Neither  could  the  house  servants,  now  released  from 
their  lock-up  ;  for  to  hinder  them  doing  so  was  the 
chief  reason  for  their  having  been  confined. 

As  it  was  known  to  all  that  the  Royalists  had 
come  up  from  Monmouth,  conjecture  pointed  to 
their  having  returned  thither.  But  conjecture  was 
not  enough  to  initiate  such  a  pursuit ;  and  Colonel 
Walwyn  was  too  practised  a  campaigner  to  rely 
upon  it.  Certainty  of  the  route  taken  by  the 
enemy  was  essential,  else  he  might  go  on  a  wild- 
goose  chase. 

As  that  could  not  be  obtained  at  the  burning 
house,  not  a  moment  longer,  stayed  he  by  it. 
Scarce  ten  minutes  in  all  from  the  time  of  their 
arrival  till  he  gave  the  command  "About!"  and 
about  went  they,  back  down  the  long  avenue,  and 
through  the  park  gate. 

Soon  as  outside,  he  shouted  "  Halt ! "  bringing 
all  again  to  a  stand;  he  himself,  however,  with 
Captain  Trevor  and  Sergeant  Wilde,  advancing 
along  the  road  in  the  direction  of  Cat's  Hill,     Only 


438  NO   QUARTER  I 

a  hundraJ  yards  or  so,  when  they  reined  up. 
Then,  by  command,  the  big  sergeant  threw  himself 
out  of  his  saddle ;  and,  bending  down,  commenced 
examination  of  the  ground. 

Had  Wilde  been  born  in  the  American  back- 
woods he  would  have  been  a  noted  hunter  and 
tracker  of  the  Leatherstocking  type.  As  it  was, 
his  experience  as  a  deers<:ealer  .in  the  Forest  of 
Dean  had  been  sufficient  to  make  the  taking  up  a 
horse's  trail  an  easy  matter,  and  easier  that  of  a 
whole  troop.  He  could  do  it  even  in  darkness ; 
for  it  was  dark  then — the  moon  under  a  cloud. 

And  he  did  it ;  in  an  instant.  Scarce  was  he 
astoop  ere  rising  erect  again,  and  turning  face  to 
Sir  Richard,  as  if  all  had  been  ascertained. 

*'Well,  Rob,"  interrogated  the  latter,  rather  sur- 
prised at  such  quick  work,  "you  see  their  tracks?" 

"I  do,  Colonel.'' 

"Going  Cat's  Hill  way?" 

"  No,  Colonel.  The  contrary — comin*  from.  None 
o'  em  fresh  neyther.  Must  a  been  made  some  time 
i'  the  afternoon." 

"Have  you  assured  yourself  of  that?" 

"  I  have.  But  I'll  gie  'em  another  look,  if  ye 
weesh  it,  Colonel." 

"Do." 

The  colossus  again  bent  down  and  repeated  his 
examination  of  the  tracks,  this  time  making  a 
traverse  or  two,  and  going  farther  along  the  road. 
In  a  few  seconds  to  return  with  a  confirmation  of 
his  former  report.  A  troop  of  cavalry  had  passed 
over  it,  but  only  in  one  direction — upward,  and 
some  hours  before  sunset. 

"  Sure  am  I  o'  that,  as  if  I'd  been  here  an'  seed 
cm,"  was  the  tracker's  concluding  words. 

"  Enough  1 "  said  Sir  Richard.  "  Into  your  saddle, 
and  fcJlow  me. ' 


ON  THE  TRAIL.  439 

At  which  he  gave  his  horse  the  spur,  and  trotted 
back  towards  the  park  gate.  Not  to  rejoin  his 
mer,  stil!  at  halt,  however.  Instead,  he  continued 
on  along  the  road  for  Drybrook ;  the  other  two 
keeping  with  him. 

At  a  like  distance  from  the  halted  line  he  again 
dr<ew  up,  and  directed  the  sergeant  to  make  a 
similar  reconnaisance. 

Here  the  reading  of  the  sign  occupied  the  tracker 
some  little  longer  time ;  as  there  was  a  confusion 
of  hoof  marks — some  turned  one  way,  some  the 
other.  Those  that  had  the  toe  towards  Hollymead 
gate  he  knew  to  have  been  made  by  their  own 
horses;  but  underneath,  and  nearly  obliterated, 
were  hundreds  of  others  almost  as  fresh. 

"That's  the  trail  of  the  scoundrels,"  said  Sir 
Richard,  soon  as  the  sergeant  reported  the  result 
of  his  investigation.  "They've  gone  over  to  the 
Gloucester  side ;  by  Drybrook  and  Mitcheldean. 
How  strange  our  not  meeting  them ! " 

"It  is — very  strange,"  rejoined  Trevor;  "but 
could  they  have  passed  through  Mitcheldean  with- 
out our  meeting  them  ?  " 

"  Oh  yes  they  could.  Captain,"  put  in  Wilde,  once 
more  mounted  ;  "  theer  be  several  byways  through 
the  Forest  as  leads  there,  'ithout  touchin'  o*  Dry- 
brook. An*  I  think  I  know  the  one  them  have 
took.  Whens  us  get  to  where  it  branch  off  their 
tracks'll  tell." 

"  Right ;  they  will,"  said  Sir  Richard,  laying 
aside  conjecture,  and  calling  to  the  officer  in  charge 
of  the  men  to  bring  them  on   at  quick  pace. 

At  quick  pace  they  came ;  the  Colonel,  Captain 
Trevor,  and  the  big  sergeant  starting  off  before 
they  were  up,  and  keeping  several  horse  lengths 
ahead. 

The  route  they  were  taking  was  the   same  they 


440  No  quarter! 

had  come  by — back  for  Drybrook.  But  coming 
and  going  their  attitude  was  different.  Then  erect, 
with  eyes  turned  upward  regarding  the  glare  over 
HoUymead  ;  now  bent  down,  cheeks  to  the  saddle 
bow,  and  glances  all  given  to  the  ground.  For,  as 
Wilde  had  said,  there  were  several  byways,  any 
one  of  which  the  pursued  party  might  have  taken ; 
and  to  go  astray  on  the  pursuit,  even  to  the  loss 
of  ten  minutes*  time,  might  be  fatal  to  their 
purpose — the  feather's  weight  turning  the  scale. 

But  no  danger  now ;  the  moon  was  giving  a 
good  light,  and  the  road  for  long  stretches  was 
open,  the  trees  on  each  side  wide  apart  So  they 
had  no  difficulty  in  seeing  what  before  they  had 
not  thought  of  looking  for  ;  the  hoof-marks  of  many 
horses,  that  had  gone  towards  Drybrook.  The 
tracks  of  their  own,  going  the  other  way,  had 
almost  obliterated  them  ;  still  enough  of  the  under 
ones  were  visible  to  show  that  two  bodies  of 
horse  had  passed  in  opposite  directions,  with  but 
a  short  interval  of  time  between. 

As  this  could  be  noted  without  the  necessity  of 
stopping  or  slowing  pace,  Colonel  Walwyn  carried 
his  men  on  in  a  brisk  canter,  designing  halt 
only  at  the  branch  road  of  which  the  sergeant 
had  spoken. 

But  long  before  reaching  it  they  got  information 
which  made  stoppage  there  unnecessary,  as  also 
further  call  on  the  ex-deerstealer's  skill  as  a  tracker 
— for  the  time.  Given  by  a  man  mounted  on  a 
hotel  hack,  w  o,  coming  on  at  a  clattering  gallop, 
met  them  in  the  teeth.  His  cry  "For  the  Parlia- 
ment 1 "  without  being  challenged,  proclaimed  him 
A  friend.  And  he  was  ;  the  innkeeper  of  Mitchel- 
dean,  recognised  on  the  instant  by  Sir  Richard 
and  Rob  Wilde. 

H**  coming  up  caused  a  halt ;  for  bis  business 


ON   THE  TRAtlfc.  44I 

4  vas    With     Colonel     Walwyn — an    errand    quickly 
I  told. 

^       **  Princt   Rupert    and    two    hundred    horse,   with 
prisoners,  hav^  passed   through   Mitcheldean ! " 

Half  a  dozen  questions  rapidly  put,  and  promptly 

answered,  elicittid    all   the   circumstances — the  time, 

^\e  direction   taken,  everything  the   patriotic  Boni- 

ice  could  tell.     They  had  come  down  the  Plump 

iill,  and   gone   off  by  Abenhall — for  Newnham  or 

A^estbury;  or  they  might  be  making  for   Lydney. 

Down  the  Plump  Hill !  That  accounted  for 
their  not  being  met.  And  the  time — so  near 
meeting,  yet  missing  them  !  All  the  way  to  Holly- 
mead  and  back  for  nothing ! 

But  lamenting  th^  \ost  hours  would  not  recover 
them.  They  must  be  vnade  good  by  greater  speed  ; 
and,  without  wasting  another  word,  the  spur  was 
buried  deeper,  and  faster  rode  the  Foresters.  Rode 
with  a  will ;  few  of  them  whose  heart  was  not  in 
the  pursuit.  They  were  on  the  slot  of  a  hated  foe, 
against  whom  many  had  private  cause  of  quarrel 
and  vengeance.  Prince  Rupert,  for  the  past  twelve 
months,  had  been  harrying  the  Forest  district, 
making  their  homes  desolate ;  his  licentious  soldiers 
abusing  their  wives,  sisters,  and  daughters — no 
wonder  they  wanted  to  come  up  with  him  ! 

At  mad  speed  they  went  dashing  around  Ruar- 
dean  Hill,  down  into  the  vale  of  Dry  brook  ;  then 
up  by  the  Wilderness,  and  down  again  to  Mitchel- 
dean ;  once  more  startling  the  townspeople  from 
their  slumbers,  and  filling  them  with  fresh  alarm ; 
soon  over  on  seeing  it  was  the  green-coats. 

Only  a  glimpse  of  them  was  got,  as  they 
galloped  on  through  ;  staying  not  a  moment,  never 
drawing  bridle  till  they  came  to  the  forking  of  the 
roads  by  Abenhall — the  right  for  Littledean,  New- 
ham,  and   Lydney;    the  left  to  Westbury.     Jten 


442  NO  quarter! 


n 


only  for  an  instant,  while  Rob  Wild«  swung  his 
stalwart  form  out  of  the  saddle,  and  made  inspec- 
tion of  the  tracks.  For  the  moon  was  once  more 
clouded,  and  he  could  not  make  them  out,  without 
dismounting. 

As  before,  brief  time  it  took  him  ;  but  a  few 
seconds  till  he  was  back  on  his  horse,  saying,  as 
he  slung  himself  up, — 

"  They're  gone  Westbury  ways,  Colonel." 

And  Westbury  ways  went  the  pursuers,  reins 
loose  and  spurs  plied  afresh,  with  no  thought  of 
halting  again,  but  a  hope  there  would  be  no  need 
for  it,  till  at  arm's  length  with  the  detested  enemy. 

Even  when  the  turn  in  Flaxley  Valley  brought 
the  Severn  in  sight,  with  its  wide  sheet  of  flood 
water,  they  stayed  not  to  talk  of  it.  To  them  it 
was  no  surprise ;  but  a  few  hours  before  they  had 
waded  it  farther  up.  No  more  was  it  matter  of 
apprehension,  as  it  had  been  to  the  party  pursued. 
Instead,  something  to  gratify  and  cheer  them  on ; 
for,  extending  right  and  left,  far  as  eye  could  reach, 
it  seemed  a  very  net,  set  by  God's  own  hand,  to 
catch  the  criminals  they  were  in  chase  ofl 


CHAPTER   LXVII. 

A  GUARD  CARELESSLY  KEPT. 

Notwithstanding  Lunsford*s  assurances — at  best 
rather  dubious — the  river  could  not  be  crossed  at 
Westbury,  without  much  difficulty  and  delay.  The 
large  horse-boat  had  received  some  damage,  and  it 
would  take  time  to  repair  it.  So  Rupert  and  his 
following  were  constrained  to  keep  on  to  Framilode 
Passage,  three  miles  farther  up  stream. 

It  would  bring  them  into  dangerous  proximity 
with  Gloucester  ;  and  should  any  of  Massey's  men  be 
raiding  down  the  river,  they  might  find  an  enemy  in 
front,  even  when  over  it.  Still  this  was  little  likely, 
as  Massey  was  believed  to  be  himself  out  of  Glouces- 
ter, operating  on  the  northern  side  in  the  direction 
of  Ledbury.  Besides,  Walwyn  must  have  had  in- 
formation of  their  being  at  Hollymead,  to  have  drawn 
him  into  the  Forest  at  that  time  of  the  night. 

Still  from  behind  was  the  Prince  most  apprehen- 
sive of  danger ;  now  greater  by  the  traverse  of 
flooded  tracts  that  must  needs  be  made  before  they 
could  reach  the  Passage.  His  failure  to  get  across 
at  Westbury  seemed  ominous  of  evil ;  and  he  had 
grown  more  nervous  than  ever.  What  if  he  should 
fail  also  at  Framilode  ?  Then,  indeed,  would  he 
have  to  risk  encounter  with  the  redoubtable  For- 
esters, outnumbering  his  escort,  as  he  knew. 

Already  had  they  passed  across  several  stretches 
of  inundated  ground  ;  at  each  the  rear-guard  being 
left  on  the  dry  land  till  the  main  body  was  well, 

443 


444  NO  QUARTER  I 

nigh  through ;  and  then  following  on  to  the  next 
But  now  one  of  longer  extent  lay  before  them  ; 
more  than  a  mile  of  road  leading  on  to  the  ferry 
being  under  water.  Still  the  causeway,  or  rather 
where  it  ran,  could  be  told  by  certain  landmarks; 
and  these  Lunsford,  as  others  of  the  escort,  was 
acquainted  with.  But  the  flood  was  high  over  it, 
and  the  fording  must  be  "^one  cautiously,  entailing 
loss  of  time.  Moreover,  if  caught  on  the  narrow  way, 
with  no  chance  of  manoeuvring,  scarce  width  enough 
for  an  "  about  face,"  any  party  pursuing  would  have 
them  at  a  disadvantage — almost  at  mercy. 

Greater  vigilance  would  be  called  for  on  the 
part  of  the  rear-guard,  its  strength  needing  to  be 
doubled.  And  this  was  done ;  the  Prince,  before 
taking  to  the  water,  himself  inspecting  it,  and 
giving  minute  instructions  to  the  officer  in  com- 
mand. It  was  to  be  kept  in  ambush  behind  some 
trees  that  grew  conveniently  by ;  and,  should  pur- 
suers appear,  they  were  to  be  fired  at,  soon  as 
within  range ;  the  firing  continued,  and  the  point 
held  at  all  hazards,  till  the  last  moment  of  retreat 
practicable.  If  no  pursuit,  then  the  guard  to  follow 
as  before,  at  signal  of  bugle  sent  back. 

Reginald  Trevor  it  was  to  whom  the  dangerous 
duty  was  assigned ;  and,  as  regarded  courage  and 
acquaintance  with  the  ground,  no  officer  of  the 
escort  was  better  fitted  for  it  than  he.  None  half 
so  well,  had  his  heart  been  in  the  work.  Which  it 
was  not,  but  all  the  other  way ;  for  every  movement 
he  was  making,  every  act  he  had  been  called  upon 
to  accomplish  since  leaving  Bristol,  was  not  only 
involuntary  on  his  part,  but  sorely  against  his  will. 
Forced  upon  him  had  been  the  ceremony  of  in- 
troducing Prince  Rupert  to  the  woman  he  himself 
loved ;  and  now  was  he  further  compelled  to  be 
op^  of  thosQ  conducting  her  to  a  prison— us  it  were 


A  GUARD  CARELESSLY  KEPT.  445 

to  her  grave!  For,  well  knew  he  it  would  be  the 
grave  of  her  purity,  the  altar  on  which  her  young 
life's  innocence  was  sure  of  being  sacrificed. 

In  the  past,  sinful  himself,  profligate  as  most  of 
the  Cavalier  school,  he  had  of  late  become  a  much 
altered  man.  That  one  honest  love  of  his  life 
had  purified  him,  as  such  often  does  with  natures 
like  his.  And  now  a  great  sorrow  was  to  seal 
his  purification ;  the  object  of  his  love  about  to 
suffer  defilement,  as  it  were  before  his  face;  and 
as  it  were,  with  himself  aiding  and  abetting  it! 

His  thoughts  were  black  and  bitter,  his  constrained 
duties  repulsive.  And  as  he  stood  by  the  flood's  edge, 
looking  after  the  escort  that  had  commenced  making 
way  through  it,  he  felt  faint  and  sick  at  heart. 

Nor  took  he  any  steps  to  carry  out  the  commands 
of  the  Prince,  either  by  placing  the  guard  in  ambush, 
or  making  other  disposition  of  it.  So  the  men  re- 
mained in  their  saddles,  exposed  on  the  high  ridge 
of  the  road,  just  as  they  had  come  up ;  receiving  but 
one  order  from  him :  that,  should  pursuers  appear, 
they  were  not  to  fire  till  he  gave  the  word. 

After  which  he  separated  from  them,  and  walked 
his  horse  back  along  the  Westbury  road  ;  stopping 
at  some  fifty  paces'  distance,  and  there  staying 
alone.  The  soldiers  thought  it  strange,  for  they  had 
overheard  the  instructions  given  him.  But  as  they 
were  acquainted  with  his  courage,  and  could  not 
doubt  his  fidelity  to  the  King's  cause,  they  made 
no  remark  about  his  apparent  remissness,  supposing 
it  some  strategic  design. 

Yet  never  was  officer  entrusted  with  guard  less 
careful  of  his  charge,  than  he  at  that  moment.  Caring, 
but  not  for  its  safety  ;  instead,  wishing  it  attacked, 
defeated,  destroyed,  though  he  himself  might  be  the 
first  to  fall.  For  still  another  change  had  of  late 
come  over  his  sentiments — a  political  one.    Brought 


446  NO  quarter! 

about  by  the  behaviour  of  Prince  Rupert  and  his  as- 
sociate crew ;  which,  for  some  time  past,  had  been  a 
very  career  of  criminal  proceeding.  It  had  inspired 
Reginald  Trevor  with  a  disgust  for  Cavalierism,  as  his 
cousin  Eustace  two  years  before.  Growing  stronger 
day  by  day,  the  last  day's  and  this  night's  work  had 
decided  him.  He  was  Royalist  no  more,  though  wear- 
ing the  King's  uniform.  But  he  meant  casting  it 
off  at  the  first  opportunity ;  was  even  now  blaming 
himself  for  not  having  sought  an  opportunity  since 
they  passed  through  Mitcheldean  ;  reflecting  whether, 
and  in  what  way,  such  might  yet  be  found. 

As  he  sate  in  his  saddle,  listening,  glad  would 
he  have  been  to  hear  hoof-strokes  in  the  direction 
of  Westbury ;  to  see  horsemen  approaching,  with 
the  hostile  war-cry  "  For  the  Parliament !  "  That 
might  still  save  Vaga  Powell,  and  nothing  else  could. 
In  another  hour  she  would  be  across  the  Severn,  and 
on  for  Berkeley  Castle,  whither  he  must  follow.  But 
with  no  hope  of  being  able  to  do  anything  for  the 
doomed  girl.  On  the  one  side,  as  the  other,  all 
powerless  to  protect  her,  even  with  the  sacrifice  of 
his  own  life.  And  at  that  moment  he  would  have 
laid  it  down  for  her ;  so  much  had  generosity,  love's 
offspring,  mastered  the  selfishness  of  his  nature. 

An  interval  of  profound  silence  followed ;  the 
only  sounds  heard  being  the  screams  of  wild  fowl 
flying  low  over  the  flooded  meadows,  the  occasional 
stamp  of  a  restive  steed  among  those  of  the  guard, 
and  the  plunging  of  nigh  two  hundred  others  far 
off  in  the  water,  gradually  becoming  less  distinct 
as  they  waded  farther.  But,  ere  long,  something 
else  broke  upon  the  night's  stillness,  as  it  reached 
the  ear  of  Reginald  Trevor,  causing  him  to  start 
in  his  saddle.  There  sate  he,  listening  and  vigilant ; 
the  sparkle  of  his  eyes  poclaiming  it  no  sound  that 
alarmed  him,  but  one  welcome  and  joy-giving. 


A  GUARD  CARELESSLY  KEPT.  447 

A  dull  pattering  as  of  horses*  hoofs — hundreds 
— making  way  over  soft  ground,  or  along  a  muddy 
road.  And  so  it  was,  the  road  from  Westbury, 
the  horses  ridden  by  men  in  military  formation, 
as  the  practised  ear  of  the  young  soldier  told  him. 
But  no  other  noise,  save  the  trample;  no  voice  of 
man,  nor  note  of  bugle. 

Soldiers  were  they  notwithstanding ;  and  pursuing 
soldiers,  led  by  one  who  knew  how  to  carry  pursuit 
to  a  successful   issue.     For  it  was  Walwyn's  Horse. 

Still  at  a  gallop,  their  hoof-strokes  were  quickly 
nearer,  sounding  clearer.  For  there  was  no  taking 
up  of  trail  to  delay  them  now.  Away  over  the 
white  water  they  saw  a  long  dark  line,  serried,  by 
a  turn  in  the  route  which  brought  Rupert's  follow- 
ing quarter-flank  towards  them ;  saw,  and  knew  it 
to  be  that  they  were  after. 

At  the  same  time  seen  themselves  by  Reginald 
Trevor,  who  rode  back  upon  his  guard.  But  not 
to  inspire  it  to  resistance,  nor  place  it  in  a  position 
of  defence.  Instead,  he  seemed  irresolute,  uncertain 
whether  to  make  stand  or  retreat.  His  men,  heavy 
Dragoons,  had  unslung  their  dragon-muzzled  muskets, 
and  awaited  the  word  *'  Fire  !"  But  no  such  word  was 
spoken,  no  order  given.  Even  when  the  approaching 
horsemen  were  charging  up  to  them,  shouting  "  For 
God  and  Parliament !  "  even  then,  no  command  from 
their  officer  to  meet  or  withstand  the  charge. 

Nor  did  they  then  wish  it ;  they  saw  the  assail- 
ants were  ten  to  their  one ;  it  was  too  late,  even 
for  retreat.  Should  he  call  "  Quarter !  "  they  were 
ready  to  chorus  it.  And  just  that  called  he,  the 
instant  after,  to  a  man  among  the  foremost  of  the 
charging  party — his  cousin !  Their  swords  came 
together  with  a  clash,  Eustace  the  first  to  speak. 

"  At  last  1 "  he  exclaimed.  "  At  last  weVe  met  to 
keep  our  promise  made.     '  No  Quarter  1 '  I  cry  it  I ' 


448  NO  QUARTER  1 

•*  And  I  cry  *  Quarter  ' — beg  it." 

Never  dropped  blade  quicker  down  from  threaten- 
ing thrust  than  that  of  Eustace  Trevor  ;  never  was 
combatant  more  surprised  by  the  behaviour  of  an 
adversary. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  '^  he  asked,  in  utter  as- 
tonishment. 

"That  1  fight  no  more  for  Prince,  or  King. 
Henceforth,  if  they'll  have  it,  my  sword's  at  the 
service  of  the  Parliament." 

"God  bless  me,  Rej ;  how  glad  I  am  to  hear 
you  say  that!  And  so  near  making  mince-meat 
of  one  another  !  ** 

"  Not  of  one  another,  Eust.  You  might  have  done 
that  with  me — may  still,  if  you  feel  spiteful." 

"  Good  Heavens  !  cousin  ;  what  has  come  over 
you  ?     But  I  won't  question  now ;  there's  no  time." 

"There  isn't.  See  yonder.  Rupert  and  Luns- 
ford,  with  the  Powells  as  their  prisoners." 

"We  know  all  that.  But  where  are  the  ruffians 
taking  them  ? " 

"  Berkeley  first ;  then  Bristol  They're  making 
to  cross  at  Framilode  Passage.  It's  but  a  short 
way  beyond." 

"  They  shall  never  cross  it — can't  before  we  come 
up  with  them.     You'll  be  with  us  now,  Rej  ?  " 

"  I  will." 

The  strange  episode,  and  dialogue,  took  up  but 
a  few  seconds'  time ;  during  which  Rob  Wilde, 
with  a  half-score  files  of  Foresters,  had  disarmed 
the  unresisting  rear-guard.  It  was  now  under  guard 
itself,  and  all  ready  for  continuing  the  pursuit. 

And  continued  it  was  instantaneously ;  Sir 
Richard,  at  the  head  of  his  green-coats,  spurring 
straight  into  the  flood,  and  on  after  the  red  ones, 
without  further  precaution  either  of  silence  or  con- 
cealment   For  he  knew  they  would  be  seen  now. 


CHAPTER  LXVIII. 

A  FIGHT  IN  A  FLOOD, 

Still  but  half-way  across  the  inundated  tract, 
and  up  to  their  saddle-girths  in  water,  Rupert 
and  his  escort  were  floundering  on.  As  already- 
said,  they  marched  "  by  twos  *'  —  this  necessitated 
by  the  narrowness  of  the  causeway — and  so  were 
lengthened  in  line.  Two  hundred  horse  in  file 
formation  take  up  a  long  stretch  of  road,  how- 
ever close  the  order. 

They  had  not  yet  sighted  the  enemy  behind, 
nor  had  any  intimation  that  one  was  there.  For 
the  snapping  up  of  the  guard  had  been  done  with 
little  noise,  the  few  shouts  uttered  being  in- 
audible to  them  amid  the  continuous  splashing 
and  plunging  of  their  own  horses. 

It  was  only  after  the  pursuing  party  was  well 
out  into  the  flood,  clear  of  the  tree-shadowed 
shore,  that  some  of  the  hindmost,  chancing  to 
look  back,  saw  what  they  took  to  be  their  rear- 
guard in  the  water  and  riding  after  them.  Saw 
it  with  surprise,  as  the  signal  for  its  advance  had 
not  been  given  ;  no  note  of  bugle  sounded. 
Neither  could  it  be  in  retreat,  driven  in.  There 
had  been  no  firing,  not  a  shot ;  and,  by  the 
Prince's  orders,  there  should  have  been  a  prolonged 
fusilade  Guard  of  his,  rear  or  van,  retiring  from 
its  post    without  execution   of   his  commands,  had 

449  G    G 


4S0  NO  QUARTER  ! 

better  have  stayed  and  delivered   itself  up  to  the 

enemy. 

Well  knowing  this,  they  who  first  sighted  the 
pursuers,  thinking  them  of  their  own,  were  enough 
astonished  to  give  way  to  ejaculations.  Which 
ran  along  the  line  quick  as  lightning. 

"What  is  it?'*  demanded  he  at  the  head,  on 
hearing  them. 

**The  rear-guard,  your  Highness,"  answered  one 
away  at  the  back.  "They're  coming  on  after 
us." 

"  Halt  1 "  shouted  the  Prince,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder,  half-wheeling  his  horse,  spurring  out  to 
the  utmost  edge  of  firm  footing,  and,  with  craned 
neck,  looking  back  land-ward. 

For  a  time  to  see  nothing  much  beyond  the 
tail  end  of  his  escort  Only  the  grey  glimmer  of 
water,  with  here  and  there  the  top  of  a  pollard 
willow.  For  the  capricious  clouds  had  once  more 
muffled  the  moon. 

But  he  heard  something;  the  sound  of  the 
wading  horses,  that  made  by  his  own  now  ceased 
from  their  being  at  a  stand. 

And  soon  he  saw  the  moving  ones ;  the  clouds, 
by  like  caprice,  having  quickly  drawn  off  their 
screen,  letting  full  moonlight  down  upon  the 
water.  Saw  them  with  alarm ;  for  a  dark  mass 
was  that  in  motion,  too  dark  and  too  large  for 
the  score  or  so  of  files  that  had  been  detached 
as  a  guard. 

"  Gott,  Colonel ! "  he  exclaimed,  '*  there  are 
more  men  there  than  we  left  with  Trevor.  And 
why  should  he  be  coming  on  contrary  to  orders? 
It  cannot  be  he  !  " 

*'Very  strange  if  it  be.  Prince,"  rejoined  Luns- 
ford,  the  colonel  spoken  to;  "and  stranger  still 
if  not" 


A  FIGHT  IN  A  FLOOD.  45 1 

•  Could  a  party  have  slipped  past  without  the 
guard  seeing  them  ?  " 

•*  Hardly  possible,  your  Highness ;  unless  by 
some  swimming,  and  a  long  roundabout  way. 
These  seem  to  come  direct  from  it." 

The  two  talked  hurriedly,  and  with  dismay  upon 
their  faces.  For  the  dark  mysterious  thing,  still 
drawing  nigher  and  nearer,  seemed  some  un- 
earthly monster  —  a  hydra  approaching  to  destroy 
them. 

There  was  no  time  for  further  conjecturing. 
Friend  or  enemy,  it  must  be  met  face  to  face ; 
and  Rupert,  commanding  the  "  about,"  put  spur 
to  his  horse  and  started  towards  the  rear  of  the 
line. 

Time  elapsed  ere  he  could  reach  it  The 
deep  water,  with  the  men  wheeling  in  file,  impeded 
him ;  and,  before  he  was  half-way  rearward,  there 
were  shots,  shouts,  and  the  clashing  of  steel — all 
the  sounds  of  a  conflict.  The  monster  had  closed 
up,  and  declared  its  character,  as  could  be  told  by 
the  hostile  war  words  "  King !  "  and  "  Parliament !  " 
fiercely  commingling. 

Never  shone  moon  on  a  stranger  affair  in  the 
way  of  fight.  Two  long  strings  of  horsemen 
confronting  one  another  on  a  narrow  causeway, 
where  less  than  half  a  score  of  each  could  come 
to  blows ;  no  engaging  in  line,  no  turning,  or 
flank  attack,  possible.  And  all  up  to  the  saddle 
flaps  in  water  ;  up  to  the  horses'  hips  where  the 
fighting  was  hand  to  hand. 

Nor  for  long  did  it  last.  Little  more  than  a 
minute  after  coming  to  close  quarters  the  Royal- 
ists found  themselves  overmatched,  and  began  to 
give  way.  File  after  file  went  down  before  their 
impetuous  assailants,  sabred,  or  shot  out  of  their 
saddles,  till  at  length  they  doubled   back  on  their 


452  NO  quarter! 

line  fn  retreat  towards  its  former  front  Some, 
in  panic,  forsook  the  causeway  altogether,  plung- 
ing into  the  flood  on  either  side,  in  the  hope  to 
escape  by  swimming  afar  off. 

Sword  in  hand,  with  curses  on  his  lips,  Rupert 
met  the  rout,  bursting  Iris  way  through  the  broken 
ranks,  slashing  right  and  left  in  an  endeavour  to 
stem  the  retreat.  More  than  one  of  his  own  men 
fell  before  his  desperate  fury.  But  on  reaching 
the  rear,  he  had  to  cross  blades  with  a  man  who 
was  his  master  at  sword-play,  and  all  the  skill 
appertaining.  Which  he  knew,  soon  as  coming  to 
the  "engage,"  and  in  his  antagonist  recognising 
Sir  Richard  Walwyn. 

It  was  quick  work  between  them  ;  at  the  very 
first  lunge  from  guard,  the  Prince's  sword  getting 
whipped  out  of  his  hand,  and  sent  whirling  off 
into  the  water !  The  old  trick  by  which  Sir 
Richard  had  disarmed  the  ex-gentleman  usher. 

With  a  fierce  oath  Rupert  drew  a  pistol  from 
his  holster,  and  was  about  to  fire  at  his  adroit 
adversary,  when  another  face  presented  itself  be- 
fore him,  that  of  a  man  he  had  better  reason  to 
shoot  down. 

"  Dog  !  Traitor !  Turncoat !  "  he  shouted,  in 
tone  of  vengeful  anger.  "Tis  to  you  we  owe 
this  I  I  give  you  death  in  payment !  "  And  the 
shot  sped,  tumbling  Reginald  Trevor  out  of  the 
saddle. 

But  there  was  still  a  Trevor  on  horseback  to 
confront  the  Prince,  with  sword  already  fleshed 
and  blade  dripping  blood.  A  touch  of  his  spur 
brought  him  face  to  face  with  Rupert,  and  alone. 
For,  just  as  the  latter.  Sir  Richard  had  caught 
sight  of  another  man  he  more  wished  to  have 
dealings  with — Lunsford — and  dashed  straight 
towards  him. 


A  FIGHT  IN  A  FLOOD.  453 

But  not  to  attain  close  quarters.  In  the  cowardly 
ex-lieutenant  of  the  Tower  there  was  neither  fight 
nor  stand.  The  sight  of  Colonel  Walwyn  was  of 
itself  enough  to  palsy  his  hands  ;  alone  the  bridle 
one  obeying  him.  And  with  it,  wrenching  his  horse 
round,  he  made  ignominious  retreat. 

No  more  did  the  other  pair  get  engaged.  Rupert 
had  but  his  second  pistol,  which,  being  discharged 
at  Eustace  Trevor,  fortunately  without  effect,  left 
him  weaponless  ;  and,  seeing  all  his  escort  in  retreat, 
he  turned  tail  too,  soon  disappearing  amid  the  ruck. 

The  route  now  complete,  with  the  scarlet  coats 
it  was  sauve  qui  peut ;  with  the  green  ones  only 
a  question  of  cutting  down  the  panic-stricken 
fugitives,  or  making  prisoner  those  who  cried 
"  Quarter !  "  And  most  cried  that — shouted  it  to 
the  utmost  strength  of  their  lungs. 

On  went  the  victorious  Foresters  along  the 
flooded  way,  alternately  sabreing  and  capturing — 
the  big  sergeant  and  Hubert  doing  their  full  share 
of  both — on  till  they  came  to  a  party  of  captives 
they  had  not  taken.  Nor  guarded  these ;  their 
late  guards  having  been  too  glad  to  get  away, 
leaving  them  to  themselves. 

**  Sabrina  1 "  "  Richard  ! "— "  Vaga ! ''  "  Eustace  ! '' 

Four  names,  pronounced  in  joyous  exclamation 
amid  the  din,  and  by  four  distinct  voices  ;  all  with 
the  epithet  "dear"  conjoined. 

Not  another  word  then,  not  another  moment 
there ;  for  the  pursuit  must  be  continued.  The 
capture  of  Prince  Rupert  would  be  a  thing  of  con- 
sequence, independent  of  all  private  feelings  ;  and 
Sir  Richard  longed  to  .settle  scores  with  Lunsford. 
So  on  went  he,  and  his,  in  chase  of  the  now  scat- 
tered escort. 

But  not  again  to  come  up  with  the  pair  of  pro- 
fligates.     THe  stoppage,  short  as  it  was,  had  given 


454  NO  QUARTER! 

them  time  to  make  Framilode  Ferry ;  where,  leap- 
ing from  their  horses,  and  into  a  light  boat,  they 
were  out  of  sword^s  reach,  and  range  of  bullet, 
before  the  pursuers  could  close  upon  them. 
I  Still  within  earshot  of  angry  speech,  however, 
hurled  after  them  by  the  triumphant  Foresters,  with 
many  a  taunt,  many  the  vile  epithet  bestowed. 

A  degradation  deserved ;  and  other  men  than 
they  would  have  felt  its  sting  and  shame.  But 
not  this  scion  of  Royalty,  toast,  type,  and  model 
of  Cavalierism.  Happy  at  having  escaped  with  a 
whole  skin,  he  but  laughed  back,  rejoicing  in  the 
life  still  left  him  for  future  crimes  to  be  com- 
mitted. 

And  many  the  one  was  he  afterwards  guilty  of; 
though  short  from  that  time  was  his  rule  in  the 
city  of  Bristol,  Once  again,  and  soon,  was  it 
enfiladed  by  an  armed  force,  not  for  siege  or  lea- 
guer, but  instant  assault.  For  the  man  who  com- 
manded was  he  who,  later  on,  gave  laws  to  all 
England,  gave  her  the  only  glimpse  of  real  liberty 
she  has  ever  enjoyed  —  the  only  gleam  of  true 
glory.  When  Cromwell  stood  before  Bristol's 
gates,  and  said  "Surrender!"  it  was  in  no  tone 
of  doubting  requisition,  but  stern  demand.  The 
son  of  Elector  Palatinate,  hearing  it  hastened  to 
comply,  but  too  glad  to  get  terms  for  his  life. 

Which  he  got,  with  his  liberty,  and  more — far 
too  much  being  conceded  by  his  generous  con- 
queror— permitted  to  march  out,  bag  and  baggage, 
with  a  long  retinue  of  bullies,  sycophants,  and 
strumpets,  leaving  behind  a  longer  list  of  victims, 
among  them  the  ill-starred  Clarisse  Lalande.  As 
he  passed  away  from  the  place  he  had  made  a 
"place  of  bawdry,"  it  was  amid  jeers  and  bitter 
curses 

♦  4i  ♦  ♦  « 


A  FIGHT  IN  A  FLOOD.  455 

A  scene  pleasanter  to  describe — one  more  con- 
genial to  honest  pen — occurred  shortly  after  in 
the  sister  city  of  Gloucester,  within  its  ancient 
Cathedral,  at  whose  altar  simultaneously  stood  four 
couples  in  the  act  of  being  made  man  and  wife. 

Wedded  they  were,  and  their  names  entered  in 
the  big  book  of  marriage  registry ;  from  which  the 
writer  does  not  deem  it  necessary  to  copy  them 
verbatim.  Enough  to  give  them  as  already  known 
to  the  reader  :  the  brides  being  Sabrina  and  Vaga 
Powell,  Winifred,  and  Gwenthian  ;  their  respective 
bridegrooms  Colonel  Sir  Richard  Walwyn,  Captain 
Eustace  Trevor,  Sergeant  Wilde,  and  Trumpeter 
Hubert. 

While  being  made  happy,  amid  the  many  joyous 
faces  around,  one  alone  wore  a  cast  of  sadness, 
yet  with  resignation  —  that  of  Reginald  Trevor, 
still  living.  For  the  shot  which  struck  him  out 
of  his  saddle  on  the  flooded  causeway  of  Frami- 
lode  had  but  wounded  him,  and  he  was  well  again. 
In  body,  not  spirit ;  for  within  his  heart  was  a 
wound  that  might  never  be  well.  He  had  suffered 
bitterly,  was  still  suffering;  but  with  soul  now 
purified  and  subdued  was  better  able  to  bear  it, 
and  bore  it  manfully.  Generously  too ;  for  just 
as,  when  meeting  his  cousin  outside  Hollymead 
gate  he  had  offered  him  his  sword  to  avenge 
defeat,  now  honoured  he  him  by  his  presence  at 
a  ceremony  which  was  as  the  sacrifice  of  himself. 


Still  another  incident  calls  for  record  :  of  date 
some  six  years  later,  and  some  months  preceding 
that  event  which  again  brought  England's  liberty 
to  its  lowest  ebb,  her  glory  to  greatest  shame— 
the  so-called  Restoration.  Before  this  curse  of 
curses    came,    Ambrose     Powell,    predicting     it  — 


456  NO  QUARTER  1 

foreseeing  evil  to  him  and  his — gathered  up  his 
household  gods,  and  took  ship  with  them  to  the 
colonies  across  the  Atlantic,  accompanied  by  all 
the  personages  who  had  appeared  at  that  marriage 
ceremony  in  the  cathedral  of  Gloucester,  and  by 
many  more — Cadger  Jack  among  them. 

Reginald  Trevor,  too,  was  of  the  colonizing  band ; 
long  become  accustomed  to  bearing  the  broken 
heart,  which  **  brokenly  lives  on,"  with  but  little 
pain,  growing  ever  less.  For  he  could  now  look 
upon  Vaga  Powell  as  his  cousin^s  wife ;  to  himself 
as  a  kind  sister — almost  without  thought  of  the 
unhappy  past. 

Well  was  it  for  all  of  them  they  went  away,  to 
become  part  of  that  people,  the  freest,  most  power- 
ful, and  most  prosperous  on  earth.  Had  they 
stayed,  it  would  have  been  to  suffer  persecution ; 
the  fate  of  all  who  then  fought  for  England's 
freedom,  save  the  false  ones  and  cravens,  who  cried 
"  Quarter  !  " — on  their  knees,  basely  begged  it  from 
that  loathsome  monster  of  iniquity — the  "  Merry 
Monarch." 

And  Rupert,  Prince  of  Cavaliers,  what  became 
of  him  ?  He  too  returned  with  the  Restoration — 
another  of  its  curses — fresh  from  a  long  career  of. 
piracy  in  the  West  Indian  seas,  to  be  made  Lord 
High  Admiral  of  England,  with  no  end  of  other 
honours  and  emoluments  heaped  upon  him !  To 
live  for  years  after  a  life  of  luxurious  ease,  die 
"in  the  purple,"  and  be  buried  with  all  pomp  and 
ceremony.  For  though  a  pirate,  he  was  still  a 
Prince  of  the  Blood  Royal  1 

THE  END. 


'  '  ^i 


Reid.   K. 

R357 

No   quarter 

• 

^/ 

^ 

M12554 


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